The Long Way Around
by FrostedFire
Summary: August 1st; the beginning of the end. In a surprising turn of events, the Order of the Phoenix manages to evacuate the majority of Bill and Fleur's wedding party outside of Voldemort's reach- just as Britain and Ireland are trapped behind magical wards. With the British coastline cut off, a new Ministry is created abroad, and the Golden Trio is unable to return to hunt horcruxes.
1. The Wedding of Bill and Fleur

**Author's Note:** I'm not J.K. Rowling, do not gain anything from this, etc.

This has been a work-in-progress for quite some time; I started writing this in November and posted it on my birthday. So much has happened since I first posted this chapter, and I'm currently working through editing each one while I continue writing, so please excuse awkward formatting and weird inconsistencies for the time being.

TLWA was a plot challenge created by SinghSong in HPFC, probably one of the coolest forums that I never say anything in like, ever. It's my first HP multi-chapter long-haul fic, and finishing this will be the best thing to ever happen for me. So it's gonna take a while, sadly. If anyone is willing to Beta this fic (which would help me put out chapters quicker), I would be forever greatful.

 **Thanks to HPSlashLuv for being an amazing beta!**

 **Warnings:** Character death, mild violence, abuse mentions.

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The Wedding of Bill and Fleur

 ** _August 1, 1997_**

"An event marked by historians as the start of the Second Wizarding War. Tom Riddle, alias Lord Voldemort, attacked the Ministry of Magic in a stealthy maneuver where he assassinated the Minister at the time, Rufus Scrimgeour." _\- Jennifer Travers, "Magic Through the Ages"_

* * *

The wedding of Fleur Delacour and Bill Weasley was an elegant affair, taffeta and lace ribbons pressed up along golden chairs. up along golden chairs. Despite the perils of the past year, the couple was thoroughly ecstatic over the plans, having thought over the proceedings for quite some time. Each detail was carefully maneuvered, each bow and balloon expertly tied.

Fleur and her future mother-in-law had presided over the decorations. The purple carpet was adorned with flowers, and each of the tents possessed the loveliest golden ribbons. Individuals had been showed to their chairs with thoroughly plotted seating charts, guided by perfectly presented siblings and 'cousins'.

As the golden balloons around the altar swelled with music, everyone whirled around in their seats to watch the bridal procession. Both Ginny Weasley and Gabrielle Delacour glided gently down the carpet, their golden dresses shimmering in the light. As they approached Bill and Charlie, the groom and his best man, they split, each standing on one side.

Everyone watched with bated breath for the bride to enter.

From the end of the aisle walked Monsieur Delacour and his daughter, both beaming with joy. The man was practically bouncing, his bright purple dress robes billowing out behind him. Fleur looked radiant in her wedding gown, its simplicity only emphasizing her dramatic beauty.

At the altar, Bill looked polished and pressed, a dopey grin present on his face. As Fleur reached him, he stretched out his hand. It appeared as if he had never encountered a werewolf a few months before.

From his place in the audience, Harry Potter gazed pensively at the affair. Although the officiant was droning on and on about love and marriage, he had found himself distracted by the folds of Ginny's dress. Was it only a little while ago that they were at Hogwarts, relaxing by the lake? Had they only just been lurking around empty corners of Hogwarts?

It had always felt like he was someone else in those moments, like he wasn't 'the Boy-Who-Lived'. He had just been Harry with her, he was always just Harry. But now, he was something more.

Well, not exactly. He was currently under Polyjuice and was posing as one of the many Weasley relatives. And, despite the way his dress robes were straining, he was excited to be someone else. Nobody knew he was there.

Except for Luna and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix. But that was beside the point for the moment.

He was drawn back into the speech towards the very last moments when he heard a loud, explosive sound generate from Hagrid. Blinking suddenly, Harry turned towards Hermione, about to remark on his zoned out state. He said nothing when he realized her eyes were full of tears.

"Do you, William Arthur, take Fleur Isabelle…?"

Mrs. Weasley and Madame Delacour traded scraps of lace in the front row, both of them sobbing gently. Hagrid blew his nose once more, and Harry now heard Hermione sniffing beside him.

"… then I declare you bonded for life."

The small, wild-haired wizard lifted his wand over the newlyweds, showering silver stars over their bowed heads. Fred and George leapt to their feet, applauding and hooting, which caused the rest of the audience to join in. At the loud round of applause, the balloons burst, birds of paradise flying suddenly outwards, singing joyously.

Again, the wizard called them to order, asking if they would all stand. It took very little time, seeing as the majority of the wedding was already standing. Great Aunt Muriel, of course, complained loudly as she did so, utilizing one of the many Weasley cousins in order to stand.

The wizard waved his wand again. In a delicate motion, the walls of the tent vanished, creating a sort of canopy supported by golden poles. The orchard around them added a beautiful afternoon, the sun only just beginning to creep down the sky. Next, the chairs lifted into the air, hovering as a golden dance floor spread from the center of the room. The carpet rolled up dramatically, and white clothed tables replaced the altar. Finally, the chairs grouped towards the tables just as the band stepped toward a platform.

Everyone dispersed, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione still standing in their spots. Ron awkwardly tugged at the hem of his sleeves before turning towards one of the waiters, glancing excitedly at the silver tray piled high with food.

"Brilliant," he remarked, plucking a few sandwiches from the pile. He shoved one in his mouth, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Let's go congratulate them!"

Harry stole one of the sandwiches from Ron, looking towards where Bill and Fleur were overtaken by well-wishers. "We'll have time later," he reassured her through a mouthful of cucumber.

"You two are useless, I swear! What do you want to do? Sit down somewhere, hiding from view?"

Ron swallowed, then grinned. "Exactly. Not there, though. Nowhere near Muriel – "

He practically dragged his friends through the crowd, his head swiveling from side to side in order to locate a free table. By the time they had reached the other side of the tent, most of them were occupied; the loneliest one belonging to Luna Lovegood.

"Hello, Luna," said Harry, setting himself down beside her. Hermione whisked four bottles of butterbeer from a nearby waiter, passing them out as he spoke. "Mind if we join?"

"Oh, yes! Daddy's gone off to give Bill and Fleur our present."

"What is it, a guide to gnomes?" asked Ron, referencing their earlier meeting.

Hermione glared at him, aiming a kick in his direction. She missed, hitting Harry instead, who lost the conversation as he attempted to recuperate. He knew she could hit hard, but the pain had doubled with her strappy heels. Damn!

"- so we got them that instead," he overheard as he reentered the conversation. "I thought it was a lovely gesture."

Everyone nodded their agreement as the band began to play. It was a waltz, and Bill and Fleur took to the dance floor. Respectfully watching, Harry tapped his feet to the beat, nervous that someone would require him to dance. He was still scarred from the Yule Ball.

After a few minutes of dancing, Mr. Weasley led Madame Delacour to the floor, followed by his wife and Fleur's father. Now that it wasn't just the bride and groom, people felt obligated to join, and after a few seconds, Luna stood.

"You know, I quite like this song."

Alone, she stood on the dance floor, stepping by herself. The trio, now left to themselves, smiled at their friend.

"She's great," Ron said admiringly. "Always good value."

Harry made a motion to agree, taking a swig of his butterbeer. Just as he did, Viktor Krum dropped into Luna's empty seat, which caused Ron to immediately stand.

"Come and dance, Hermione," Ron stated, shifting so that he shielded the majority of Krum's massive figure from her view. His words were rushed, pouring out of his mouth in a hurry.

Hermione was taken aback, but she stood up, vanishing behind him onto the dance floor. She sent a glance towards Krum, but said nothing in greeting, still shocked by the sudden request.

"Oh! Are they together now?" Krum asked, a bit sheepishly. "I did not mean to intervene earlier, if so."

"Sort of," said Harry. That was the best explanation for what was going on between the pair, anyway.

"Who are you?"

He had briefly forgotten that he was in a disguise with how easily Krum had spoken to him. Harry ran a hand through his red curls, clearing his throat. "Barny Weasley."

Krum extended his hand, and he received it awkwardly.

"Barny, do you know who the man in yellow is?" Krum questioned with a scowl.

"Xenophilius Lovegood. He's the father of a friend of mine. Why?"

"Do you know him well?"

Confused, Harry said, "I only just met him today."

Krum's demeanor had darkened several degrees since the beginning of the conversation, and Harry was beginning to feel as if he had missed something extremely important. What had Xenophilius done? At the moment, he was simply chatting to several wizards on the other side of the tent, seeming innocent.

"He is wearing a sign that I would duel over," Krum said darkly. "The sign of a Dark wizard, a man who killed so many, including my grandfather."

"Sign? Dark wizard?"

"Grindelwald. He is wearing the sign of Grindelwald. I have dueled many a wizard over the mockery of this sign, and I would do so now, but he is one of Fleur's guests. I do not wish to ruin her wedding day."

Despite this, Krum still looked angered, his jaw clenched terribly. White knuckles continued to clutch his drink, and he took a sip as he glowered at the man.

Harry observed Xenophilius in confusion. He didn't seem like someone who would support the Dark Arts, especially seeing that he had raised Luna. And nobody else recognized the triangular shape, though that could have something to do with the unfamiliarity with the subject. Grindelwald was never extremely powerful in Britain, mostly due to his fear of Dumbledore.

"Are… Are you quite sure?"

"I have walked past that sign for years," Krum hissed. "I am not simply confused."

A few moments passed awkwardly between them, and Harry watched the dancers, now moving around to more exciting music. He recognized one of the songs as something Ginny had been singing earlier and scanned the area for a glimpse of her. When he was unable to locate her, he turned back to Krum.

"It could be possible that he doesn't know what it means," Harry began. "He and Luna–that's her over there, dancing alone–are pretty… strange. He could have just assumed that it was something related to the Crumple-Horned Snorkack or something like that."

Krum blinked, still irate. "What the hell is that?"

"I'm not entirely sure. But listen, I don't think he meant it intentionally. I'm sure he'd take it off if you asked."

Krum grunted, standing suddenly. He either had lost interest or didn't entirely care for Harry's response; he wasn't able to tell which one and didn't truly wish to know. He wanted to find Ron and Hermione and question them about Grindelwald and the strange symbol on the necklace. At a glance, however, he noticed that they were still dancing in the center of the tent, talking seriously.

He made his way around the edge of the dance floor, nabbing a treacle tart from a passing waiter. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Ginny dancing with Lee Jordan, and Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson laughing among themselves in the corner. He also spotted the Patil twins, dancing with a few of the other Weasley cousins, and he felt a glimpse of confusion as to why they were invited.

Harry sighed, leaning against one of the golden pillars. It probably had to do with some sort of Wizarding rule, or they could have been somehow related to the Weasleys. One could never know. Or it could have been some silly wedding tradition. He hadn't been to one before and wasn't sure of the differences. He was certain, however, that there was a distinct difference in wedding cakes, as Muggles would not have one topped with model phoenixes (which flew when the cake was cut), nor would they have bottles of champagne that floated through the crowd. They also wouldn't have had singing balloons that dissipated into singing birds.

He stood there as the night went on, watching as moths wept along the champagne bottles, fireflies twitching in between the golden lanterns. The party was slowly becoming livelier and uncontained, with Fred actively flirting with two of Fleur's cousins, George chatting up Angelina, and Charlie Weasley and Hagrid drunkenly singing in the corner.

The slightly tipsy man nearby him was convinced that Harry was a waiter. After being accosted twice regarding 'fruity tooties', he crept further into the crowd. It was easier than trying to explain that he didn't know what the man meant. As he wove through the crowd, he located a slightly nervous Mrs. Weasley observing a very strange piece of paper that, for a moment, he was convinced was the Marauder's Map.

No, that wasn't right. That was packed away, ready for it to be taken with them as soon as the wedding was over. He had seen Hermione put it in her beaded bag earlier.

Harry stepped closer, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Across the page, names darted in and out of rooms. The structure was familiar, as were a few of the names he could make out. Harry found that he was appreciating the Muggle boy's eyes, as they were far better than his own, even with glasses.

"Oh, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed as he approached, attempting to hastily hide the parchment. He stretched out an arm to grasp for it, catching both of them by surprise.

"What's this?" His hand rested along the worn paper, clutching at the edges. He glanced over the page, noticing Kingsley Shacklebolt's name lurking around a floor plan. After a moment, he recognized one of the other names, and it dawned on him. This was a map of the Ministry!

"Order business, dear," she said. Her hand pulled back the parchment, although she didn't put it away. "Nothing to worry about, nothing at all!"

A frown grew on Harry's face. He was tired of being treated like a child, despite the fact he was of age. He knew that Mrs. Weasley meant well, but it was becoming ridiculous. In a few days, he, Ron, and Hermione were going to go off and take down Voldemort, which they had been doing for years already. But when he looked up at her, her eyes were swimming with tears, and he found himself feeling awkward.

"Mrs. Weasley, is everything alright?"

She sniffed and looked down at the paper. A few of the dots were clustered around an office, swarming in circles. One of the dots disappeared, and she seemed to notice this with a bit of alarm. "Oh, yes, dear. Just… When you three go off— "

"Yes?" He hoped she wasn't trying to convince them otherwise; she had already tried before. As Ron had said, she wasn't going to accept that they were leaving until they were gone.

Mrs. Weasley frowned. "I know you won't tell us what you lot will be up to. I don't like it, but I can accept it. But Harry, don't forget that you have an entire team behind you. You don't need to do it alone."

"But I do. You don't understand. I do, he told me," Harry said exasperatedly.

"You don't need to follow every instruction Professor Dumbledore gave you, Harry. You can ask for help. We're all here to help you, remember that."

As she spoke, Mrs. Weasley continued to study the paper in her hand. She seemed slightly distressed, rocking back and forth on her heels. Her fingers moved up and down the page, more out of anxiety than a focused determination.

Harry looked back at it, both curious and nervous.

"What is that, then?" he asked. She looked down to the parchment, surprised, as if startled that he wasn't arguing with her point. Harry knew better than that, anyway. He just had to pretend like he was accepting what advice she was giving him, even though he was ignoring it all.

"Something that the Order has been working on. Where are you three planning on running off to?"

He clenched and unclenched his fists. A pause grew between them, and he decided that it couldn't hurt to be honest. "I'm not entirely sure, though I wouldn't quite say either way. I wouldn't want to leave your family in danger, and Ron agrees with me."

"It took Ron nearly four years to figure out that he likes Hermione," Mrs. Weasley said.

Blinking back shock, Harry took a step backwards. Well, at least somebody had said it. Their exchanged glances finally made sense, and it was a sweet thought. He was glad that somebody had noticed it.

"But he's right about this. You have to admit it. Please, Mrs. Weasley, don't ask again about what we're doing."

She stared at him, then shifted to look back towards the crowd of people still dancing. Her head swiveled to locate an empty table, and she led him towards it, smiling and chatting to random guests as they moved.

As they sat down in vacant seats, she placed the paper down on the table, her rosy cheeks still pulled into a smile, though it thinned out as she spoke. "This is something that the Order has worked tirelessly on for the past few years. Project Guardian, it's called."

He didn't quite understand the sudden shift in conversation, but he wasn't going to complain. Anything to get her to stop badgering him about a plan that they didn't quite have.

"What is it?" Harry asked. He leaned forwards in his seat, glancing over the paper.

It clearly labelled the multiple layers of the Ministry of Magic, just like he expected. In the corner there were a list of other dense magic cities, which he inferred opened up into their own floor plans. The entirety of the map was written in very tidy script, and, like the Marauder's Map, had many different names floating around the offices.

"A highly sophisticated tracking device that we created. It was based off of the plans from past members of the Order. In fact, I believe your parents may have participated. I do think I noticed your father's handiwork. Bill, Minerva, and I have been working on it for the past few years. It's likely that Voldemort will begin to attack a more densely populated city soon," Mrs. Weasley explained.

Harry looked at one of the clusters of dots, all circled around an office labeled 'Minister for Magic'. Curiously enough, Rufus Scrimgeour was noticeably missing from that very office, with a person named Pius Thicknesse present instead.

"Mrs. Weasley," he began, observing the handiwork carefully.

"Yes?"

"I don't think the Minister is in his office anymore. I can't seem to find him anywhere."

"What?" Mrs. Weasley asked in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"He isn't there. He isn't in his office; there's someone else there. Yaxley, I think. He's a – "

Mrs. Weasley, much to Harry's shock, let out a curse, reminding him that she was very clearly Ron's mother. She stood suddenly, moving deep into the crowd without another word. On the table rested 'Project Guardian', and he stared at it. After a moment, he pocketed it, frowning.

He attempted to trail after her, bobbing and weaving throughout the party. Alarm was present on his face, and a few people responded in kind. Even Fred moved out of his way, though he did make a joke regarding a bathroom. Harry shot him a dirty look, and nearly bowled over Hermione and Ron, who were still dancing.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked. She stopped moving, grabbing for his wrist. As their hands connected, Harry paused. "You seem to be in a rush."

"I am!" he said, trying to wrestle his arm back. She released him with a gasp, and he led his friends to where Mrs. Weasley was talking to Remus Lupin in hushed tones.

She looked at the them with a bit of distress, regarding Ron, Harry, and Hermione carefully. Then, after a moment, Mrs. Weasley disappeared back into the crowd, leaving them with Lupin. Harry took a step forward to follow her, but the werewolf held up a hand.

"No, stay." Remus Lupin's face was one of utmost misery, and Harry's heart fell. He was terrified of what it meant. Why wasn't the Minister in his office? And why was Yaxley there? Had they abducted the Minister?

"What's going on?" Ron asked, perturbed. He clearly wasn't enjoying his lack of knowledge. His brows were knitted together in a mixture of confusion and frustration. His dress robes were slightly askew, and he fixed them carelessly. "Seriously."

Lupin opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a flash of light that landed directly to the right of him. It formed the shape of a lynx, and when the Patronus spoke, it sounded like Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"The Minister is dead. The Ministry has fallen. We have only a few minutes. Activate the precautions and we will meet at the safe house."

The lynx disappeared immediately after, seeping into the air with a sizzle. Harry sharply inhaled, and Hermione made a sound that was a cross between a sob and a gasp. Ron, besides him, merely grunted. They all turned to Lupin, who simply nodded along with the message.

"We had a warning sign in place. It should only be a few seconds, and we'll all be off. The majority of us, at least. Ah, yes, that's the signal," he rambled to the trio, motioning towards his wife, who was now standing in the middle of the dance floor.

Everyone paid her mind, as she was standing on one of the tables, talking loudly. "Everyone! We will be evacuating the wedding shortly due to the death of the Minister for Magic. Those of you who wish to remain in their homes may Disapparate now, and we will be Portkeying others out in a few moments."

Shockingly, a few people chose to Disapparate immediately. Great-Aunt Muriel, Xenophilius Lovegood, and a few other Weasleys opted to do so, clearly intent on sticking the war out in the background. Harry resisted the urge to snort.

Tonks, still leading the crowd, proceeded to instruct them on where the Portkeys would be located, her voice carrying throughout the tent. "The centerpieces will activate on my count!" she was explaining, tripping as she moved to make her way to the nearest one.

Most followed her request without a thought, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione remained near the center of the room, unsure. It was a defining moment in their lives, a question that could put them on a different pathway. Should they go with the rest of the wedding? That way everyone was safe, and there would be no need to fear. They would have everything in order.

But with the chaos, they would be able to leave without another thought. Nobody would initially notice that they were missing. They were golden.

Clearly, all three of them were thinking the same thing. But out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Mrs. Weasley holding her finger above one of the vases. Her eyes were pleading.

"Five. Four."

Ron frowned. "Shouldn't we just go?"

"We can always leave from there, you know," Hermione added.

"Three. Two."

"We'll leave from there," Harry said. "We owe them that much."

They lunged for the nearest centerpieces, throwing their hands down when told.

"One. NOW!"


	2. A Rebellion Overseas

**Author's Note:** Thank you for all your reviews and follows! I appreciate every single one!

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A Rebellion Overseas

 _ **August 1, 1997**_

"The second Ministry of Magic evacuated the occupants of the Weasley wedding immediately after receiving word of the occupation. This swiftly enacted plot was due to the success of Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt's reconnaissance efforts, as well as the joined forces of the Order of the Phoenix and wedding goers." - _Jennifer Travers, "Magic Through the Ages"_

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Kingsley Shacklebolt stared at the land around him with a mixture of apprehension and courage, fully aware of the mixture of emotions plaguing him. He had just Apparated from the Ministry of Magic with a knapsack on his back after dealing with what he considered to be the mess of the century. He had managed to dodge the brunt of the trouble after finding out what had happened, mainly due to the secrecy of the coup. After mentioning the predicament to Gawain Robards (whose allegiances Kingsley _still_ didn't know), he had immediately sent his Patronus to the Weasley's and had then Disapparated.

He needed to figure out what to do in the few minutes that he had before the International Portkey arrived. He needed to have some sort of plan by then, or even a few vague ideas. People were going to be panicked, and it was going to be worse if they knew that the Order was playing everything by ear. Secondly, he was hoping that the location that Mad-Eye had picked could actually hold all the people who were attending the wedding of Bill and Fleur.

From the outside, it didn't look like much. It was a simple spreading farmhouse that was used for ecological tourism more often than not. He could only hope that it was something different on the inside and that the Muggle repelling charms would hold strong.

After all, they were attempting to house many guests for the next few months or even years. The safe house had to hold until they were able to put people up in Guernsey.

He stepped towards the door, pushing it open with the palm of his hand. The worn wood responded with a crackle, slowly misplacing itself so that the wizard could enter. As he did, a low sigh passed his lips.

The foyer itself was big enough, and it was clear that the farmhouse started its life as the summer home of a rich pureblood family. It was ornately decorated, if not slightly musty, with rugs and couches settled in a gentle sitting area.

Expansion charms were clearly utilized, as a grand staircase was present in the middle of the room, and the farmhouse was merely one story high from the outside. The plans that Mad-Eye had presented originally detailed thirteen rooms, but they had been working on adding more for some time. Of course, that didn't mean that every single individual that showed up would want to stay with them. There was always the possibility that the French relatives would return home, and others would move to the main island.

For now, he was planning for the majority of the wedding to stay with the Order for a few days. In fact, he was getting slightly nervous about attempting to feed that many people for so long. Although he had remembered to pack essentials for himself, he had forgotten about providing for the others. They wouldn't have anything.

Not everyone was Auror trained. He had had a grab bag since Dumbledore had mentioned that he seemed to have the aptitude to be an Auror.

They would have nothing and they were going to be frightened. Kingsley touched his chin thoughtfully, attempting to decide how to proceed with the initial discussion. Should he directly inform them of what was going on? Or was that too much?

No, they had the right to know. After all, the Ministry had kept them in the dark for too long. No, it was clear that he needed to mention the predicament directly to the wedding guests. Then, he was going to have to mention the Order of the Phoenix, but in a way that did not fully describe their jobs nor their purpose.

He could label them as Ministry employees. That was, mainly, what they were. He could attempt to establish a Ministry of sorts, with the active goal of presiding over those living on Lihou. Yes, that could work as well.

There was no time for him to debate anything else. The others would arrive shortly; he could feel it. Stepping back outside, Kingsley arranged his robes, ready to welcome the many witches and wizards that were about to quite literally fall out of the sky.

And so they did, people moaning and groaning under the weight of Portkey travel. Most notable was Harry Potter, who Kingsley was surprised to see. He knew that Harry and his friends had been given instructions from Albus Dumbledore, and had supposed they would follow them immediately. There was no reason for the group to have come along with the wedding party.

He met Harry's eyes with a nod, and the boy returned it.

Ron turned to his friend, hitting him gently on the back. "Sure, let's just go off to Merlin knows where instead of off on the quest that we've been planning for some time. Great idea, mate!"

"Don't be rude, Ronald," Hermione hissed, jerking her head in the general direction of Kingsley.

"He has a point, Hermione. It was a stupid idea. We should have left when we were able to," said Harry.

Hermione huffed, rummaging in her ever present handbag. She withdrew a jacket, which she placed around her shoulders. "I know. He just didn't have to _say_ it!"

"Now that we're here, though, we may as well let your parents know we're going," Harry said awkwardly. He pulled down on his dress robes, another idea growing. "And change. And figure out what's going on, exactly, so we have a better plan."

"Where are we, anyway?" asked Ron. He looked around the area, staring as people slowly moved to the farmhouse laid out before them. At the front door lurked Mr. and Mrs. Weasley chatting with Kingsley and Lupin.

"On an island."

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry's blunt statement, looking around their surroundings. "Yeah, mate, I can see that," he murmured. The two looked at each other, cracking a bitter smile.

It was definitely an island, that much they could tell. Harry couldn't quite place anything else about the area, except for the fact that it was both grassy and rocky at the same time. Sort of wetland-like, if one could call it that. A few strange birds were strutting around, squawking occasionally.

The area was basically empty. It seemed relatively safe, but that had more to do with the Order than anything. Harry assumed that there were at least seven charms protecting them.

"Do you think we're still in the country?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged, walking towards the farm. His friends fell into step besides him, both looking around suspiciously. All three had their wands in their hands, despite knowing they were in general safety. One couldn't be sure.

Remus Lupin was the only one left waiting for them when they walked up the rickety stairs, slouching at the doorframe. His face was still set in a frown, and it deepened when they approached. He ran a hand through his hair, then, almost reluctantly, began to speak.

"I'm assuming you'd like to know what's going on," Lupin started. "And I don't blame you. Scrimgeour, to our knowledge, is dead. He was captured last night from his office by Death Eaters and likely tortured for information. He was replaced by Pius Thicknesse in an attempt of a silent takeover, but Kingsley happened to be back at the office."

"He overheard Yaxley speaking to Thicknesse, and immediately let Molly know. Of course, you know that we had already instituted security measures, seeing as you are still currently in possession of them. We'd like that back, by the way."

Harry filched through his pocket, handing Lupin the paper. "Why are you telling us all of this in the open? Won't we be heard?"

"We're on an isolated island- Lihou. We'll be moving a few people to Guernsey later, but for now, this will do. It isn't Unplottable, but we've enough security measures up, and the Death Eaters wouldn't think to look here," he explained. After a moment, he added, "There's also bad news."

"What?" Ron asked nervously. He couldn't find anything worse than their current situation, and was looking forward to getting on the move.

Lupin looked around anxiously, seeming unwilling to announce something. Then, after an intake of breath, he continued. "Voldemort placed a barrier around the entirety of the British coastline, effectively cutting Great Britain and Ireland off from the rest of the world. We're looking into possible solutions, but… He's won for now. He must have known that we were going to evacuate, and essentially cut us off from our home."

Ron let out a series of curses, stomping his foot into the ground. Hermione paled, her head snapping towards Harry. Harry himself was unable to form words, his heart dropping. How were they supposed to start their hunt for Horcruxes when they were unable to get back to the mainland?

"What… What are we going to do about it?" asked Harry. His mouth felt dry, his palms were sweating. Huge Hippogriffs were swooping in his stomach.

"We're contacting the French Ministry tomorrow morning. Right now, we're attempting to garner together a plan. Kingsley wants to institute a small-scale Ministry with the people that are here, and we might relocate to France in a few days. We're having an emergency meeting of the Order tonight to see who all is here and who is trapped under Voldemort's rule."

Harry nodded. He was still attempting to digest the information. It threw a complete dent in his plan, which was completely unappreciated.

And it meant that Voldemort had won. That he won without a fight, which was even worse. He had outsmarted them all, somehow figuring out that the group was leaving. How? Why?

Hermione reached the decision before either Harry or Ron did, her eyes widening with the knowledge. "Harry! The Trace! You must still have the Trace on you, that's why they were able to close off the border!"

"Why would I still have the Trace on me? I'm of age now, Hermione," Harry reminded her, looking towards Lupin for confirmation.

"Hermione's right, actually. We think it has something to do with the Trace." Lupin shook his head slowly, then parted them to allow entry into the farmhouse. He pocketed the parchment with a sigh. "Well, I'll see you lot inside. I'm sure you have a few things to go over."

He was right. Ron swept past them all, taking charge. He led them through the doorway, past the people milling about the couches, and up the heavy staircase. Portraits moved and waved as they stepped, watching with eyes that claimed surprise.

At the top of the stairs, he turned sharply to the right, looking down the hallway in confusion. It stretched on for ages, looking like it might not stop. They passed four doors before Ron pushed one open, and, finding it empty, led the trio inside.

It happened to be a bedroom, decorated lavishly with blue and gold. An armoire presided in the corner, and the bed was piled high with pillows. A small chaise longue rested at the end of the bed, and the room smelled of jasmine.

"Muffliato," Hermione said upon entering, casting the spell with precision. Then, she turned and flopped onto the awaiting bed, throwing back her arms. "Well, this is a royal mess."

Harry muttered his assent, falling into the cushions of the chaise longue. Ron looked between them before choosing the bed, sitting closer to Hermione than needed. They stared at their laps for a few seconds before speaking.

When they did, it was Harry who spoke first, his jaw clenched angrily. "We need to come up with a plan. Go over the Order's head, if we have to. We can't just abandon everyone, leaving them under Voldemort's rule. It's not happening."

"I'm not sure there's anything we can do," Ron said. He moved his hands to his side, tapping at the comforter of the bed. "We can't pass a magically sealed border, Harry. But we can't just stick it out. We have to do something."

Hermione nodded in agreement, filching through her bag. After a moment, she shoved her entire arm in it, much to the surprise of her friends.

"What in Merlin's pants is in there?" Ron asked, alarmed.

"I took the liberty of packing all of our things in here," Hermione explained. She withdrew two pairs of jeans, stacking them on the mattress next to them. Two sweaters were next, and then a final set of jeans and sweater. "So that we were ready to leave at all times. I've got all of the books, our tent, the cloak, cooking supplies…"

"Can we focus, please?" Harry pleaded. "This is extremely important."

"Can we focus after changing? Speaking of which- Harry, your disguise seems to be wearing off," Hermione said. She picked up her set of clothes and disappeared into an adjoining bathroom, which he had somehow not seen when they entered.

"She's right. Your hair is all splotchy at the moment, like you attempted to transfigure yourself a new hair color."

Harry snorted. "Thanks, Ron. That's what I'm really focused on at the moment."

"To be fair, it should be something to worry about. You were disguised for the wedding. What will people say when the magnificent Harry Potter shows up out of the blue?"

"Well," he said carefully. "Your Great Aunt will finally believe that we're friends."

"She didn't actually come with us, remember? Neither did Luna's father, though I think that Luna is still waltzing around here somewhere. What do you think she's doing about that?" Ron frowned. "This is why we need to solve this damn problem."

"Yeah. Who else stayed behind, do you reckon? And how many other people did the Order rescue?"

Ron shrugged. "I guess we'll find out later, at the meeting. Wonder if Mum'll let Ginny attend, or if we'll have to fill her in later."

At the mention of Ginny, Harry's mind wandered. He wondered where she was right now, and how she and Luna were dealing with what had just happened. Even though he had seen her a few hours ago, and would likely see her in the future, it was strange. He had made his peace with leaving, and yet he wasn't going to be gone.

"We'll probably have to fill her in later. And whoever else from the DA is here, too," Harry murmured distractedly, fingering his robes. With a sigh, he pulled them off, undressing into his casual clothes without further thought.

Ron mimicked his movements, and they managed to finish changing just as Hermione exited the bathroom, running a comb through her locks. Her hair had lost all semblance of shininess, and it was hard to believe that they had just come from a wedding.

"Should we try the Galleons?" Hermione asked. It was clear she had overheard the majority of the conversation, as she was able to easily jump in. "We can change the location to one of the rooms here."

Harry nodded, another sigh falling from his lips. "Yeah. Yeah, let's do that. We'll reconvene after the Order meeting and discuss what we want to do about everything."

"Should we go off and find the Order, then?" Ron asked, pushing off of the bed with a small 'oof'. Hermione replaced him, sitting as she placed the discarded clothes back into her beaded bag. She placed the bag in her lap, glancing at Harry.

"I guess," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Wouldn't want them to come looking for us in a rage."

With that, they departed the room, moving back the way that they came. Harry studied the walls seriously as they did, finding himself struck with the similarities of the new abode to Grimmauld Place. Luckily, there weren't any heads of the previous house elves. However, they did both have the same scent of dust and mildew, which made his heart pang.

Even the stairs had the same creaking noises, and he wondered if Mad-Eye chose the farmhouse for those similarities. Or, maybe, it belonged to the Black family as well. There were so many of them that it wouldn't have been shocking.

The downstairs furniture had the distinct air of being 'pureblood-like', too, and it felt strange to see it in use. The couches reminded him of the ones Aunt Petunia had wanted to purchase, the type of couches that one wasn't supposed to ever use.

Of course, nobody was following that rule. Ginny and Luna were stretched out along the couch, and Neville sat between them, his arm stretched around the latter. She looked as if she had been crying, but before they could approach, Fred and George entered from a different room.

"Oi, you three," Fred began, crossing his arms. "Where've you been? We'd like to get this meeting started."

"Yeah. And I have a hot date," said George.

"He doesn't. He just wants you to think he does."

George sniffed. "Let me live, Fred. Let me live."

"Anyway, we're just about to start. Do you mind dragging your _fantastic_ little bodies over to the next room?"

Harry rolled his eyes, but nodded his head, trying to catch Ginny's eye as he followed the twins through a wide hallway. She seemed to turn away, though he wasn't entirely sure why. He shifted his gaze away awkwardly, turning his attention towards the back of Fred's head.

"How long were you waiting?" Ron asked curiously. He didn't really want his parents to be mad at him, especially since they were just now privy to all of this information.

"Oh, not long at all. About five minutes," Fred remarked.

Harry groaned, his head leaning back to look at the ceiling. "Fred, honestly," he muttered, shaking his head slowly. "Why'd you pull our legs like that?"

"Just bringing some light to the situation, dear Harry."

George added, "It's kind of our thing," as he guided them down the hallway. With that statement they all fell silent, not able to find much else to say. Everything else, they felt, would ruin the lightness of the moment, and with the possibility of a deepening conflict, it felt right to let it be.

They passed quite a few many doors before finally hooking off to the right. Coming to a rough, dark door, Fred knocked twice, paused, and knocked again. Although it seemed to have no significance on the proceedings, Harry supposed that it had been previously set up between the Order members, and thought to adopt the movement in the future.

To Harry's surprise, Lee Jordan opened the door, ushering them all inside. With a little wink, he disappeared out into the hallway, possibly to stand as sentry. Harry turned to watch him go, and as he turned around, blinked in surprise.

Before him sat the congregated Order members, organized around a dark, round table. There were a few seats left here and there, but not three next to each other, meaning that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were required to separate.

The rest of the room was organized in a way that conveyed that this was a war council. The walls were empty save for one painting, and this was simply one of the house itself, done in the Muggle style. There was no possible way for anyone to overhear what was about to ensue.

It seemed almost foolproof. Harry was almost optimistic as he slid into an open seat beside Angelina Johnson. She patted his arm reassuringly, then turned to George, who plopped dramatically next to her. Hermione and Ron took seats near Lupin and Tonks, and Neville, who slid into the room quietly, sat down next to Mr. Weasley.

A few seconds passed in silence, everyone glancing over the other with a bit of apprehension. Then, as if reluctantly, Kingsley Shacklebolt stood.

"Good evening, everyone," he began warmly. "I'd like to begin by thanking Molly and Bill for their work on Project Guardian, as well as Minerva McGonagall, who is currently not with us. As such, I think we should keep in mind those that remain at home as we continue to proceed with this meeting."

"How many people did we manage to evacuate?" interrupted Tonks, her shockingly pink hair a muted brown. "Apart from those involved with the wedding. Sorry about that, by the way."

The second half of her statement was aimed towards Bill and Fleur, who were sitting next to each other a few seats down from her. Tonks was leaning over the table to talk to them, and as she slouched into her chair, she frowned.

"Good question, Tonks. We managed to evacuate most of the members of the Order and their families, save for Minerva and Augusta Longbottom, both of whom stated that Voldemort was not going to intimidate them into abandoning their posts. Currently we are working on establishing contact with the French Ministry, with our intent of setting up our own exiled version here. If this comes to pass, we will likely unofficially integrate it with the Order."

Mrs. Weasley nodded, then asked, "What will we do about education? We have quite a few Hogwarts students with us, and there's probably a few families along the island."

"We'll see about Beauxbatons. That seems like the best choice, seeing as we have connections there. Fleur? Do you think you could contact the school for us?" Kingsley said.

"Of course," Fleur murmured. "Eet will be no problem."

The man nodded, then turned to take a quick look around the table. Everyone looked back at him with faces that ranged from exhaustion to frustration. Although he had much more to debate, he felt that it was best to end the meeting pretty quickly. The entire room had been present during his previous announcements, after all. The only people who had missed that were Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were likely off discussing their own things.

It wasn't as if they missed much. He had simply mentioned the issue to the refugees, who all responded differently. Quite a few Weasley relatives shook their heads, then took up the offer to relocate abroad. The French families simply went home wishing them luck. All in all, it was short and unofficial. Just as it seemed this meeting would be.

"Does anyone else have anything that they'd like to say?"

Harry lifted his hand slightly, feeling awkward. He didn't believe that he had the authority to speak during the Order meetings, seeing as he was barely of age.

Kingsley nodded, and Harry lowered his arm. "Do you know when we'll be able to breach the barrier?"

"Not for a while," Kingsley announced. Regret was present in his every word, and he looked apologetic as he addressed the problem. "From what we can tell from initial observation, it may take more than a few weeks."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, leaning forward in her seat. "Is it both a physical and a magical barrier?"

With a nod, the man continued, "It's both, from what we can tell. Tonks went over upon its creation and performed a few diagnostic charms. It's basically preventing anyone magical from entering or leaving. This could be for two reasons: to keep us out and to keep the Muggleborns in."

The already low morale of the room dropped a few degrees at that fact, everyone remembering what had been present in the back of their minds. Any Muggleborns that were left in the country were likely going to be located and killed in the name of blood supremacy. Harry felt miserable for having forgotten this. He had been so focused on getting back in to find the Horcruxes that he had missed the other parts of the picture.

"We think it was a fail-safe once they realized Harry had moved. In fact, we think they weren't planning on utilizing this option, as it's likely not ideal for them either. They must have noticed the change in location and surmised that the only problem had left. They couldn't be more wrong. We still have members inside, but we need to get to them before he realizes."

A few people nodded, understanding the need for speed.

"We need a way in, and fast," Kingsley said by way of closing. With that, the meeting was clearly adjourned. People slowly exited the room, chatting miserably amongst themselves.

Last to leave were the former members of Dumbledore's Army, spearheaded by Harry and Ron. Hermione walked a few steps behind them, fiddling with a galleon. A few moments afterwards, the entirety of Dumbledore's Army felt their galleons grow hot as the date and time changed to reflect a meeting in fifteen minutes.


	3. The DA Abroad

**Author's Note:** I was nervous that I wasn't going to post this week! I was pretty slow to write the next couple of chapters, and editing takes a while! Once again, I'm looking for someone to help me edit! Anyway, thank you for the favorites and follows. I'm thoroughly grateful for them all! Hit me up w/ any questions, comments, concerns, or jokes. Have a fantastic weekend and an even greater week!

My favorite interactions are in this chapter, by the way.

As usual, I don't own anything!

 **Warnings:** implied violence

* * *

The DA Abroad

 ** _August 1, 1997 - August 2, 1997_**

"Tom Riddle, alias Lord Voldemort, took no time to begin the Muggleborn Registration Committee. Nearly hours after taking over the Ministry of Magic the man put into position the office, immediately rounding up the Muggleborns that he knew were close to Harry James Potter. It was a tragic turn of events for two siblings who had been on holiday near the British Isles." - _Elizabeth Cantor, "The Times and Trials of the Second Wizarding War"_

* * *

It took fifteen minutes for the members of Dumbledore's Army to assemble in the bedroom. They spread themselves around the space, making an almost picturesque scene. Ginny, Luna, and Neville sat on the ground, exchanging nervous looks. Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet were whispering to each other on the chaise lounge. Across from them sat Angelina Johnson and George, both looking wary.

Harry was lurking by the door, mulling over different introductions in his head. They all knew why he had called the meeting. It was pretty clear after Kingsley spoke, but he was having difficulty figuring out what to say.

"Right. Well, I guess we all know why I called the meeting of the DA," he began, running a hand through his untidy hair. "I mean, it's pretty obvious. We don't have a lot of information, though."

Heads whipped when he began to speak, each individual curious to hear what he was going to say. When Harry continued, the entire room seemed to take a huge breath, holding on to the moment.

"But what we know is that Voldemort thinks he won the war. And he didn't. Not yet. Not until we stop fighting. So we're going to figure out a way to save our friends and families, each person who is with us or under his rule. Our first plan is to figure out how to contact those who are shut off from us, and figure out where they are. Oliver Wood, Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, and others."

"Dean won't know what's going on," Parvati Patil said from her position on the bed. Besides her, Padma nodded. "But Lavender and Seamus should be able to get in touch with him and hide him. We don't know how fast He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will take to start tracking down people."

"I doubt he'll attack right away. It'll cause the wrong reaction if he shows he's in power. There's a lot of fear right now. It's more likely he'll create a law that requires all Muggleborns to register. A Muggle dictator did that," Hermione explained.

Fred groaned, leaning back against the wall he was resting against. "This is much worse than we initially thought, isn't it?"

Harry noticed Luna turn her head to Neville's shoulder. Guilt wracked him; he should have known that she was still upset. Taking a breath, he continued. "It's probably going to get worse. We don't have any way of knowing what's going on at home, not yet. We may be able to get a radio station going, if we tried hard enough. Maybe we could use the galleons to get contact with the DA members that aren't here. Hermione?"

"It's something that I can look into. We have a lot of time, seeing as we can't go off on our own." She looked around the room, but nobody seemed surprised. Did they all know what they were planning on doing?

Luna lifted her head from Neville's shoulder, tear tracks still shining on her face. "I'll help. Daddy has mine in his pocket, since my dress didn't have any."

Harry nodded, feeling guilty. He should have done more to help her, but he couldn't think of anything. It wasn't Luna alone, though. He could look across the room and count everyone who had given up a part of their life. All because of the war. Because of him.

"I know that we aren't in classes right now," Harry began. He was searching for something, anything, that could make it better. "But I was wondering if anybody wanted to start up the DA again, unofficially. That way we'd have something to do, and... Well, so we can be ready."

When nobody outright objected, he shifted his gaze to Ron, who lifted his hand. Harry nodded, and the gangly boy stood up from his seat besides Hermione.

"I think it's a good idea. We'll be cooped up here for some time, anyway. Besides, I know we won't be given that much information, even if some of us have been allowed into the Order. They still think they're protecting us, but what they're doing is damning us."

"Agreed." This was Ginny, who fixated her fierce gaze on Harry before shifting to look at the rest of their friends. "We may as well get something out of being here. We could also use some of that time to mull over what the Order is saying."

"Right," Harry said, distracted. Before he could say anything else, a piercing headache struck him. The pain was worse than normal, and he knew that it was Voldemort. There was nothing he could do right now; he hadn't practiced Occlumency in ages.

He clutched his head in agony, curling inwards. As his friends looked on in concern Harry moved aside, making his way to the bathroom. Inside, he barred the door, casting a silencing charm on the door so that he could get some peace and quiet.

He was getting used to the visions coming in a violent and painful manner. It had almost become second nature. But there was something different about this one. It almost felt like Voldemort was straining to get his point across, and was unable to due to his own borders. It was like he was doing it on purpose.

There was something else, too, secondary to the pain. There was a distinct feeling that rose above it all. Glee. He was happy, giddy. Voldemort was floating from his most recent win, making Harry all the more miserable.

Staring into the large oval mirror, another bout of euphoria attacked him. As the feeling washed over him, he stared at his face in the mirror, focusing on the red, ragged scar. It almost seemed to pulse, glaring at him.

A moment later, Harry doubled over in pain, hitting the faucet as he buckled at the waist. Hot, steamy water rushed down the drain, and the scent of water propelled him into a different scene.

He was in a room, somewhere. It was dark and dingy, as if someone had squashed out any sort of light. Thin eye slits allowed him to observe his surroundings, which seemed to have seen better days. He felt the dampness of the room in his bones, and as his gaze adjusted, he noticed that they were in a dungeon.

There was only one person present: Draco Malfoy. Malfoy looked pale and nervous, his face thinner and bonier than the year before. He had adapted a nervous tick, his right hand flinching with every breath. He looked young and terrified, and a hint of disgust clutched at the boy's gaze.

And Harry was Voldemort, looking down at someone who he had gone to school with. He saw the snaky skin reach out, curling his fingers to beckon forward the boy.

"Draco," they crooned. "How kind of you to join us. Tell me, how did the border patrol go this morning? How many Mudbloods did you capture?"

Harry tried not to wince. Hermione was right, they were catching Muggle-borns. He didn't want to know what they were doing, nor who they had caught. It could be someone he knew. And Draco had been helping! Rage burned in him as he stood as Voldemort.

The blond boy looked nervous as he approached, and Harry felt Voldemort's glee at having caused it. "We caught sixteen people escaping just this morning, my lord. Four of them were friends of Potter's, disgusting Gryffindors who worshiped him. We killed the parents and asked the boys to turn to you."

"And?"

"They are in the dungeons with us," Draco replied. Voldemort seemed to think this an adequate answer, but Harry felt a rush of confusion and anxiety. "Would you like to see them, my lord?"

"All are in the dungeon, Draco?"

Blond hair shook in quick, frantic movements. "Just those two. The others had no information, so Fenrir disposed of them. A few of them were filthy Muggles, of course."

"Good." Voldemort leaned closer, placing a gnarled hand on Draco's shoulder. The boy shuddered with his head bowed. After a moment, he attempted to move away, but the steely grip prevented him. "We'll see how long it takes for them to question their loyalty to the Boy-Who-Lived. After all, he is the one who abandoned them."

Anxiety flashed in Harry, but he could do nothing. Voldemort was laughing, high and cold, and he was whirling away.

His eyes flashed as they re-registered with his surroundings. With some effort, he relocated his wan face in the mirror. Nervous, green eyes flickered around the area, resting on the running tap water. With a groan, he turned it off, then rested his head on the mirror. The cold grounded him, allowing time for thought.

He was getting tired of this, the constant battle for control over his own mind. He knew Hermione would say that this was his own fault for not practicing Occlumency. No matter how hard he tried, though, he couldn't do it. He was unable to understand how to close his mind, even with tutelage. He blamed Dumbledore, who had chosen to focus on Horcrux hunting instead of how to clear his thoughts.

Leaning back, Harry ran a hand through his hair, then trailed his hand down his face. He could always read up on it again, or at least some of the practices. But then again, there had to be a use for his strange connection to Voldemort. He was already halfway there; he had learned something already.

Voldemort had already begun to capture and kill Muggleborns and their families. Harry groaned, slamming his hand against the counter. He needed to let everyone know what the new development was, but he couldn't quite face them yet. It had only been minutes since he had thrown himself into the bathroom.

He hoped that Ron and Hermione had cleared the room. As Harry undid his charm, he pressed his ear against the wood of the door. He heard movement from the outside, but nothing else. Sighing again, he moved to reopen the door, only to hear a distinct knock.

"Harry?"

It was Luna, clear as day. Her voice sounded tired and sleepy, and as he moved to open the door, she spoke again.

"You can come out now. I'm the only one here. Ron and Hermione went off to discuss things in a different room. We assumed you'd want your privacy," she explained. He heard more shifting, and her palms pressing against the wood.

Harry turned the knob, and she shifted away. As he cracked open the door, he was struck with how slight she appeared, her blonde hair tangled and in disarray. Her face was still marked with dried tears, but she was acting in a way that made pride soar through him.

He immediately enveloped her in a hug, knowing that she needed it more than anything. He pressed his chin against the top of her head, breathing in the scent of rose oil that tended to follow her around. "Luna, I am so, so sorry," he murmured. "For everything."

"It's okay," she whispered, pressing her head against his chest. "It really is. I'm sure Daddy is okay, wherever he is. I'm sure he's at home writing for the Quibbler. If I'm not home, I can't get him in trouble."

Harry winced, removing himself from the hug once Luna's breathing was steadier. "We'll keep him safe. Don't worry."

"I'm not worrying. You and Ginny worry enough for the rest of us. You should talk to her, you know," Luna murmured. As she withdrew from the embrace, she rubbed beneath her eyes.

His brows knitted together in a mixture of worry and emotion. Of course Luna would be reminding him of that while she was under considerable distress. It was how he knew she was such a great friend, and he was thankful that she had been attending the wedding. He wasn't sure what he would've done without her, and he knew that the others agreed.

"I should have checked to see that you lot were okay when we arrived. Is she?"

Luna fixed him with a steady gaze, and he could see the cogs rotating in her mind. "You know exactly what I meant, Harry Potter. You need to remember how much your friends trust you, and you need to trust them. And you need to talk to Ginny."

"You know, you're the second person to say that today." Harry ignored her final statement, focusing on the other part of her message. He tried to bring some levity to the situation, but found that it wasn't quite working. "I'm trying to take it to heart. It's a very difficult time."

"I think it's a very good thing that you're not going off on your own," Luna said cryptically, blinking owl eyes at him. Harry realized that he hadn't quite come to the conclusion yet, but it was true. If anything, it allowed them time to further research how to locate Horcruxes. Of course, that was the optimistic version of it.

"Yeah, I guess it could be."

Her small hand reached up to pat at his cheek, a vacant, dreamy look on her features. It was normal, strange in the situation that they had found themselves in. "Well, goodnight, Harry Potter. See you tomorrow morning."

With that, she exited the room, quickly replaced by Ron and Hermione. Assuming that the two of them had been lurking right outside the door, Harry turned towards the bed, flopping dramatically onto the mattress.

"Can we talk about what just happened?" Ron asked, leaning up against the back of the door. Hermione stood a bit further into the room, glancing between them.

Harry, face down, announced, "No."

"Can we discuss the vision that you clearly had?" Hermione tried.

"Nope," he responded, still aimed towards the comforter.

"Should we just ask Luna?" Ron wondered aloud, clearly speaking to Hermione. The bushy-haired witch shrugged, stepping towards their friend. While Harry remained motionless, she sat down on the bed, causing a rift.

"Harry, are you going to bother to talk to us this evening?"

A few moments passed in silence before Harry rolled over, covering his eyes with his forearm. "I haven't decided," he remarked, clearly frustrated. "It's been a rather rough evening. Have sleeping arrangements been decided?"

"Sort of. Mum said you can take this room, and Hermione is down one with Ginny and Luna. Neville and I are on the other side of you. I told her you weren't feeling well, so she said you could have the room to yourself. Count yourself lucky, mate."

"Voldemort was just inside my head, Ron. Or I was inside him. I still haven't figured that part out," Harry said in exasperation, shooting his friend a look.

Hermione, looking like she wanted to say something in regards to the visions, sat up a bit. She shrunk once Ron crossed the room, sitting down on the bed as well. The three of them were completely silent for a few moments, each in deep thought.

It was clear that they were all still attempting to comprehend the heavy events that had ensued that day. This caused a combination of exhaustion, fear, and anxiety through the minutes, each feeling transitioning queasily to the next.

Ron leaned back onto one of the pillows, looking between the other two. Harry briefly removed his arms from his head to stare at the ceiling. And Hermione, still digesting each and every detail of the day, hugged her knees to her chest.

This was too much. They had fought and fought and fought, but it wasn't worth anything. They had rallied their friends, but the result was almost crushed by the weight of the response. Despite every effort they had made, Voldemort had won.

They knew that they had to stay positive. That they had to fight. But there was still a sort of awkward apprehension that came with the idea: why did they have to be positive? What was there to be positive about?

People were going to die. This was a simple fact that would not change. People were going to die as a result of this. Whether or not Voldemort enacted each and every thing that he wanted to, people were going to die. Their friends. Their families.

"I feel broken," Hermione finally said, her eyes glassy. "I just feel… broken."

With a little nod of his head, Ron murmured, "Yeah." He fell silent almost immediately after, his eyes sliding shut in thought.

The pause that rested between them was a blanket, and it carried them into the night, easing the trio into an unsettling sleep that they weren't prepared for. They were nestled all on the same bed, the three exhausted friends, and when Molly went looking for them later, she refused to move them out of a combination of pity and understanding. They were young, and they needed time.

When morning struck, Hermione was the first to wake.

This had been a typical thing at Hogwarts. She had always been the first to wake up in her dormitory, leaving Lavender and Parvati grumbling and groaning if she made too much noise. It had started as a fear that she would wake up too late for classes, or that her homework would not be perfect. By the end of her third year, it had turned into a desire to conquer the day.

Of course, the anxiety was still there, but it had turned into something more. Whenever she woke up, she was eager to create a list of exactly what she needed to complete that day. Yet, when she pulled herself out of sleep, she felt a distinct lack of desire to get out of bed.

It only partially had to do with how close she was to Ron, who was snoring steadily beside her. She also didn't want to disturb Harry, who had somehow spread out along the entirety of the bottom half of the bed. And, most importantly, getting out of bed would be acknowledging the actions of the past day.

Only twenty-four hours ago she had awoken to prepare for a wedding. Now, she was with her best friends, a political refugee.

Hermione pulled herself out of bed, disentangling herself from her friends. The heels of her hands dug into the back of her neck, trying to regain feeling. From the top of her head to the tip of her toes she was awash with the feeling of emptiness, topped off with the occasional sore muscle. With a groan, the witch rubbed at her eyes.

Feeling the floor for her beaded bag, she let out a sigh. A shower might help her think, she decided, and as she pulled out a pair of fresh clothes, she pulled out her soaps as well. One clattered to the ground with a bang, and Hermione nervously whipped her head upwards.

Neither of the two boys moved, though it seemed like Harry had stirred a little. With a little sigh of relief, she scooped the pile up, padding towards the bathroom.

Turning the lock in the door, Hermione glanced around at the well-furnished room, dropping her clothes in a pile next to the sink. There were still some towels in a dark wooden cabinet under the sink, and the shower didn't look disgusting. The Order had stocked up well, or else there had been house elves in the farmhouse. She would have to ask Mrs. Weasley if there were any working there still.

If it was so, she wanted to make sure that they were getting some sort of compensation. That was the least that she could do at the moment.

Decided, Hermione turned the faucet with determination. Hot water immediately flooded the tub via the showerhead, steam floating up in waves. She shed her clothes, stepping into the warm water a second later.

She thought of nothing except scrubbing, attempting to drag the anger and rage out of her system with soap and warm, pulsing water. Her skin was pink from the effort, but once she was drying off, the witch felt much better.

Sure, she knew that they were inevitably still doomed. The world was still terrible. But now she was clean, and that checked one thing off of her to-do list.

As she pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a sweater, her eyes were no longer red and swollen, but sharp and determined. Her face was clear and focused, her posture sincere. She was going to be able to conquer both the day and the world.

Running her hands through her wet hair, Hermione decided to let it air dry before she put it up. Picking up her discarded clothes, she exited the bathroom, running directly into a disheveled looking Ron.

"Mornin'," he said, running a hand through his hair. It was clear that he wasn't awake yet. Ron fanned a yawn past his lips as he regarded Hermione.

Offering him a smile, she edged out of the way, dropping her stuff back into the endless bag. "Morning. Need something?"

"Mm..." The lack of response faded out, but he did move closer to the bag, his bleary eyes unfocused. Hermione snorted, dropping the pack into his arms, unwilling to go into it again.

As he rifled through (creating a lot of noise), she stood awkwardly by his side, trying to decide what to do. On own hand, she could leave the room in search of food, Luna, and Ginny. On the other hand, she could wait on Ron and attempt to locate sustenance together.

She chose the latter, knowing that he likely wasn't going to shower. When he finally managed to pull out some sort of outfit, she sat herself back down on the bed, pulling her boots on. As soon as she finished lacing them up, Ron had already exited the bathroom, rubbing at his eyes.

"Food?"

Apparently, he was still unable to form more than one word. She simply nodded at him, a smile on her face. Casting one last look at Harry's sleeping form, the pair slipped out of the room in search of the kitchen.


	4. Breakfast Affairs

**Author's Note:** Wow, sorry for posting this a day later than I anticipated! I had two ballet auditions and was missing my computer. Good news is, it's updated now!

As normal, I own nothing, etc.

 **Warnings:** minor cursing, implied violence.

* * *

Breakfast Affairs

 _ **August 2, 1998**_

"In the days after the fall of the Ministry, the Order of the Phoenix (see Chapter Four for details) began to discuss making their own renegade Ministry. This took quite some time, as the French Ministry of Magic proved difficult in regards to funding and acceptance. This did not deter the rebels; they were determined to make their own path in the world." - _J_ _ennifer Travers, "Magic Through the Ages"_

* * *

Harry woke up a few minutes after Ron and Hermione left, confusion clawing at his every muscle. There was, at first, the initial type of soreness that generally comes with sharing a bed with people. Almost immediately it gave way to pressure in his skull. He was thankful that it wasn't resonating from his scar, but it was still a pain that he was going to have to deal with.

Because of the pain, his movements were slow and delicate. He crept across the room to find some clothes, filching through the stack Hermione had left him. It took an unreasonable amount of time for him to even walk into the bathroom, toothbrush in hand.

It took him fifteen more minutes to finish his morning routine. As soon as he finished, Harry pulled himself out of the room, green eyes crusted with sleep. The scent of bacon and eggs wafted down the hall, and his stomach dictated every step.

Down the stairs and to the right was where it took him, the sound of chattering people almost deafening. More surprising, though, was that the noise came from a handful of people.

Mrs. Weasley and Fleur were pouring over the stove, whipping out breakfast as quick as they could. Hermione, Luna, and Ginny crowded around the table, chatting happily. Meanwhile, Ron shoveled eggs into his mouth at a dangerous speed. Fred and George were loitering in the corner, goofy grins on their faces, and were first to notice Harry.

"Morning, Harry!" Fred called, waving a rubber chicken in his direction. Everyone's heads swiveled towards him, and he smiled at them.

Mrs. Weasley shot her son a look as she lifted her spatula to Harry. "Good morning, dear. Feeling better?"

"Yes, much," he lied, slipping into the seat between Ron and Luna. He stole a piece of toast from Ron's plate, slathering it in butter. The other boy made a noise of objection, but as his mouth was full of bacon, it was hard to understand.

"That ees good," Fleur remarked. She whipped her wand and another plate of food came floating towards their table. "Make sure you eat, eat, eat!"

Harry smiled towards her turned back, helping himself to a huge scooping of eggs and potatoes. The entire thing looked wonderful, and he couldn't help but think of Hogwarts. It was sad to think he may not see it again for a long time. The misery only lasted a few minutes; Fleur's good mood was seeping into everyone.

"Did you sleep well?" Luna asked him. Harry almost spoke with his mouth full of eggs, but Hermione arched a brow.

He nodded towards her, swallowing before speaking. Best not to break the good mood by being rude. With a smile, he said, "As much as one can with Ron's feet in their face."

"My feet don't smell that bad!" Ron objected. "They smell fine, right?"

"I couldn't tell," Hermione quipped. "I held my breath all night."

The table burst into laughter, with Ron tossing a potato towards her, and Ginny catching it. Mrs. Weasley shook her head at the proceedings. Then, deciding that she had created enough food for the moment, she moved to sit at the large table.

"We've a meeting today, you lot," Mrs. Weasley remarked. She took a few pieces of toast, spreading marmalade on both. "No, not you, Ginny."

Ginny had looked ecstatic at the inclusion, but her face fell when her mother spoke. With a large frown, she stood up suddenly, the chair swinging out behind her. "Fine!"

With that, Mrs. Weasley leaned forward in her chair, only a bit disturbed. It seemed that she understood the feelings brewing in her children. "Ginny," she said in a warning tone.

The girl whipped around on her heel, showing her back to the rest of her family. Although he couldn't tell, Harry knew that there was a murderous look on her face. Fred and George confirmed his thoughts, paling when she glanced in their direction.

She stomped out a moment later, and Luna followed her with an unreadable look on her face. Harry turned back to his toast, relishing in the weird silence that fell over them all. At least he didn't have to talk. He could enjoy his potatoes in peace.

George attempted to break the hush, dropping himself into one of the vacant chairs. "So, a meeting later?"

The attempt at casual conversation brought a grin to everyone's face. Harry even leaned forward in interest. He wondered if Mrs. Weasley was going to offer up any more information seeing as Luna and Ginny had left the room.

She didn't, plugging away at the toast before standing up without another word. Shaking her head at the group, she exited the room, toast in hand.

They all stared at each other for a few moments before anyone dared to speak. It was almost like they were holding their breath, wondering if she would return to shout at them all. They knew they were being insufferable. If anything they deserved worse.

"I feel rotten," Hermione mumbled, pushing away her plate of crumbs.

Furrowing his brows, Ron shifted in his seat. "You didn't do anything, though. Ginny was being a brat."

Harry let out a breath, turning to face Fred, who had dropped into the other vacant seat. "Is she mad at anything in particular? Or everything?"

"Everything," Fred explained, scooping up a mug of tea that was not his. He sniffed it, then, deciding that it couldn't be that terrible, took a sip. "Earlier, she cursed at me for stepping out in front of her."

George snorted. "You did it on purpose, and you know it. That was rightful."

Chuckling, Ron scooted up from his seat, moving to grab himself a mug from the counter. Fleur passed him the kettle between cracking another egg. He poured himself a cup, dropping a tea bag inside. "Did you also threaten her food supply?"

"Debatable."

"So you're the one who started the tirade?" asked Hermione, laughing. "She was vicious when she walked in here."

As the rest of the family continued to tease the absent Ginny, Harry found himself distracted. His chair squeaked as he retraced Ron's previous steps, poking around the cabinets for a mug.

Once he located one, Harry took the kettle back from Fleur. The witch rolled her eyes as she placed the appliance back, but the action was positive. Grinning at her, he dropped two bags into the mug, moving them around. He found himself thinking about Ginny's reaction as he prepared his tea.

It was reasonable. He too remembered how he felt in his fifth year, when the Order had been reinstalled. Even worse, he had been privy to information at a younger age. It wasn't fair, that much he knew. Harry doubted that Mrs. Weasley was going to allow her any information, though. She hadn't wanted Harry to know, and Ron and Hermione were only allowed because he would have told them.

Especially now that she was acting out. If anything, Mrs. Weasley must think that she wasn't mature enough. But Harry knew her frustrations were relevant. They had put so much effort into the world, and it had shut them out.

It was terrible. He almost agreed with her method, but he knew that it wasn't going to work. He had already been through all that anger before, and he knew that it didn't help nor beget change. If anything, it made things much worse.

He knew that there was a way to fix it, but it wasn't going to work out the way they wanted it to. He, at some point, was going to go on a hunt for the Horcruxes. And, at some point, he was going to face Voldemort. The circumstances were still the same. They were going to have to officially break it off.

And he was going to have to see her, now. They weren't getting a 'cooling off' period like he and Cho had gotten, or like Ginny must have gotten with Michael Corner and Dean.

His heart dropped as he remembered Dean, as well as the vivid vision that he had had of Voldemort. Although he hadn't yet told Hermione and Ron, he knew that he had to. They couldn't be left in the dark…

"Harry? Are you paying any attention?"

Whipping his head up, Harry winced. He hadn't realized that Ron had asked him a question, and he smiled apologetically at him, taking a sip of his tea. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I asked if you were going to ever tell us about your vision," Ron repeated, and Harry startled, looking around the room.

It seemed that he had somehow missed the exit of the twins and Fleur while he was deep in thought. Right now, only Ron and Hermione remained.

Harry moved to sit down again, cradling the heavy mug in his hand. "Oh. Right. Sorry."

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked. She studied him, her chin propped up by her hand. As soon as he touched the seat, she leaned forward in her own chair.

He wasn't sure how to answer the question. For one, his head was still killing him, and he felt cottony. At least he wasn't being tormented by the pain of Voldemort, so that was a positive. "It's debatable," he chose to say instead.

"I'm not sure how debatable it could be, mate."

Harry let a puff of air pass through his nose in a semblance of a bitter laugh. "I feel like death," he admitted, refusing to meet either of their eyes. "But I feel better than I did yesterday."

"Can we talk about it?" Ron asked. He took a sip of his tea.

There was a moment where he resisted the urge to shrug his shoulders, but the feeling ultimately won out. "Yeah, I guess. There's not that much to say."

"You were in the bathroom for about an hour," Hermione said, her eyes wide. "That's not nothing."

"Really?" he asked, not having realized the exact time period of it all. It didn't feel like that long. In fact, it felt short in comparison to others that he had had. It was possible that he forgot something about it. There could be more that he had blocked out.

"That's a bit of an extension." Ron glared at Hermione, and she ducked her head in embarrassment.

"It wasn't anything that different from normal. One minute, I was fine. The next, I was overcome with this feeling of euphoria, like he realized that he had won. He must know that we can't get back- it must have been part of his plan. They're doing border patrols, too."

Ron blinked, once, twice, then managed, "Really?"

"And they caught a few Muggleborns trying to escape. He wants to try to… convert a few, I think. That's not the right word for it, of course. Even Malfoy looked a bit shocked at that."

"Malfoy was there?" Ron questioned. "Really? I suppose he's a full-fledged Death Eater now, then."

Harry shrugged, a motion that was becoming all too familiar. "I'm sure he was already. Killing Dumbledore was probably the final hazing ceremony to becoming a Death Eater. Or a dumbass. Could go either way, of course."

"Was he going to torture them?" Hermione asked.

"It seems like it. He said that he had two people that we knew, and he was trying to see if they'd change their minds about me. And that Fenrir killed the others. Who… Who do you think they meant?"

"I dunno. I don't even want to know." Ron looked down into his mug, as if the dark liquid could give him any answers. "Those are our peers. Our friends, even."

They were all silent for a few minutes, thinking and wondering. Harry went through the list of Gryffindors that he knew, taking another sip of his tea. He didn't think that they meant Dean- he would have been travelling with Lavender and Seamus, if they were even moving.

He didn't want it to be Dean, either. So it wasn't him. It couldn't have been- Lavender and Seamus would make sure that he stayed safe. Who else could it be?

"It's Colin and Dennis," Hermione said suddenly, her voice cracking with emotion. "That's who it is. It has to be them! There are two of them, they were probably trying to get away. I'm not sure how they found out, though. Somebody must have tipped them off, and they had planned an escape."

His heart dropped, the mug slipping out of his hand. It didn't have very far to fall, and dropped onto the table with only a clatter. "Shit. Oh, shit, shit, shit."

"Are you sure?" Ron questioned, his eyes wide. He took a few moments to review the thought, mulling it all over. "Are you really sure?"

They were quiet for a few seconds, thinking it over. They were going to have to tell the Order about this. It was a terrifying thing that they had little-to-no information about.

Harry almost found himself wishing to have another vision. That way, he would be able to figure out exactly what was going on.

Hermione must have known what he was thinking. Her brows were furrowed as she whipped her head towards him. "No. Harry, no!"

"What?" he exclaimed, feigning innocence. "What?"

"I know exactly what you're thinking," she insisted, and Ron nodded along. Both of their skeptical gazes tracked him, and he felt guilty as he avoided their eyes.

"Do you?"

"You can't save them by keeping your mind open. Don't let Voldemort know what's going on in your thoughts, please! Colin wouldn't want that. In fact, he'd hate you for it. He'd resent you. That's not what you want them to be thinking about."

"So you're saying I should take up Occlumency again?" Harry asked.

She nodded at him, leaning back triumphantly in her chair. "Yes, I am. It would be extremely beneficial now that we're getting told confidential information. Plus, Ron and I were talking about it- "

"Oh, really?" His eyes flashed towards the two of them angrily. They were so cozy next to one another, looking concerned about his well-being. Although Luna's words rang in his thoughts, he was still filled with rage at the idea that they thought they knew what was best for him.

"Don't pull that with me, Harry," Hermione hissed. "You know what I meant. You need to stop being like this! We try to help, and you get all worked up over nothing!"

"I get worked up over nothing? You two constantly think you know better than me, that you know what I should be doing, that you know what I need, that…"

He trailed off, looking down at the table. Heat still pushed at his gaze, and he dropped his head into his hands, groaning. "Sorry, I'm sorry."

Hermione grunted. Ron shifted in his seat, looking awkward. He seemed like he wanted to say something to his best friend, but was unable to. Harry completely understood.

They all stared at each other for a few minutes. Then, Ron decided to cut through the air with his words, crinkling his nose.

"Is the rest of our year going to be like the past few days?"

Harry let out a bitter laugh, still staring at the table. As he slowly returned to a better sitting position, the laugh fell into the air. "I hope not."

Luna waltzed into the kitchen as soon as his words hit the air. Ginny followed behind, her eyes a storm. "What do you not hope?" the blonde witch questioned.

"We're hoping the world doesn't end," Ron explained, taking a sip from his mug.

Ginny slid into the seat across from her brother, dropping her head onto the table. "Hear, hear," she muttered to the wood.

"Did Mum give you what for?"

She shook her head to the best of her ability, refusing to remove her head from resting on the table. "She mentioned that she was disappointed in how I was handling things, and how I had to keep up hope. Which was much, much worse."

"Oh, I agree," Ron remarked, finally shoving down his tea. "Did she waggle her finger at you?"

Ginny lifted her head a fraction of an inch before dropping it back onto the table. It made a loud whack, causing everyone to look in her direction. "Nope," she said, emphasizing the solitary word to a dramatic degree.

They all winced sympathetically, completely understanding the anguish and embarrassment of being told by Mrs. Weasley that you were disappointing her. It was easier for her to yell and shout, or even be sweet to exhaustion. Harry almost found himself wishing for the bitter way that she had been acting a few weeks before.

"I feel like they're babying us," Ginny hissed. Luna patted at her back, adding her own opinion.

"I think they're doing it on purpose. They've been through this before, remember?"

Harry was struck with the realization after it had been said, his lips pulling into a deep frown. Luna was right. They had been through this before, all the adults. They had already fought through one of the wars, and now they were fighting again. The only reprieve that the Weasley family had gotten was a few years when their children were at school. Even then, they knew Harry, and he got into a lot of trouble.

He felt terrible. He felt like it was his fault.

"Yeah," Harry said absently, the guilt still pressing at his throat.

As he said this, Ginny looked up from the table, smirking. "That was beautifully sentimental, Harry," she said sarcastically.

"Thanks," he said, lifting his mug in the air.

Luna rolled her eyes at both of them, a movement that looked awkward and strange on her pale, round face. She was almost too sweet for it, but when she finished the movement, the look that she adopted was as dreamy as normal.

"You two have been extremely off the past few days. I think it has something to do with Mars."

Hermione resisted the urge to snort, forever bothered by the topic of Divination. But her instincts ultimately won out, and she was unable to mock Luna for simply being herself. Instead, she simply sat up from her chair, aiming to move out of the room.

"I'm not sure what it has to do with Mars, Luna," she said as she shoved her chair back under the table. "It has to do with both of them being impossible."

Ginny stuck her tongue out at Hermione's retreating back, then ran a hand through her hair. "You're being impossible," she muttered.

She and Harry looked at each other, then managed to dissolve into laughter. Neither Ron nor Luna were entirely certain about the how or why, and thus decided to do the logical thing. Both left the kitchen, exchanging nervous looks as they did so. They were followed out by the uproarious laughter of the strange duo.


	5. Bloodhounds

**Author's Note:** Here we are again! Updated this chapter finally; added a bit at the end that I had previously deleted. Just a few glimpses into what's going on for everyone; I wanted to break up the chapters with an interlude of things that are going on for the characters. Honestly, all of these things are important and will end up with their own chapters in the future. This is just the little linking step for the fic.

As usual, I own nothing!

* * *

 _Bloodhounds_

 **August of 1998**

* * *

Mrs. Weasley stared down at Project Guardian, her head filled with worry. It was acting up because of the distance, and she didn't know what to do about it. Well, logically speaking, she knew plenty of charms that would keep it active.

Emotionally.

She wasn't sure what to do emotionally. If anything, she had been putting on a front of bravery for days. The children didn't need to know that the adults were also saddened by this isolation.

This wicked, terrible isolation. They were all stuck in a strange sort of trance. They didn't know what to do. Yes, they were all angry. But they were fighting a force greater than them all, and this force had shut them out from the world.

And Project Guardian wasn't working. She couldn't focus on the one name that she needed.

Before, she was able to keep track of Percy. She could glance down at the object, locate her child, and picture him wherever. She could imagine that he was happy, that he was working, that he still loved them very dearly.

She could imagine that he was off with his friends, that he was going to come home at the end of the day. Molly knew that her children had given up Percy as a lost cause, but she still hoped. He wasn't completely lost to them.

But he was. Now, she could only see dots. The names came over all squiggly, as if Project Guardian was unsure about who was where. The new barrier was messing with her map as well as her heart.

She felt that somewhere, Percy was alone, and frightened. Her mind painted a picture of him pounding on the walls, attempting to break through to be with his family. But he wouldn't be. He would be at the Ministry, staring at the new Minister with fear and respect.

No, not respect. He would know that the man was dangerous, wouldn't he? Percy had a good head on him, despite his ambition. And he was loyal. He was a Gryffindor, after all. He was brave, loyal, and her son.

She had nothing to worry about.

And yet, her heart quaked as she studied the map. From behind her, there was pounding on the walls. Dumbledore's Army was in session, and she had to pretend that she didn't know what was going on.

Molly Weasley pushed the fears and anxieties out of her mind, folding up Project Guardian. She put it into the pocket of her cardigan, eyes sad.

Then, with a bit of force, she stormed out of the kitchen, a smile on her lips. It was as if she hadn't been upset at all, just pensive.

* * *

Percy Weasley stared down at his tea with apprehension. He knew that, somehow, he needed to get in contact with the Order of the Phoenix. He knew that it was the right thing to do; something was up. He knew it the moment that Scrimgeour had vanished. He knew it the past few days, but had gone to work as expected.

He was certain of it when Dolores Umbridge presented herself to him at the Ministry. The toad had started off the conversation stating that he was 'the only good one of the lot'.

And it burned. He hated every second that he lived under the rule, not knowing what to expect. Unsure about his actual position and whether his family would ever accept him back.

He had been warned of this. The Sorting Hat had mentioned something of the sort when he was being sorted. It had said that he was going to make difficult decisions, and that Gryffindor would make those decisions far more difficult. The only other option was Slytherin, though, and he knew how his family would treat him. How disappointed his mother would be.

The Sorting Hat made the conversation very quick, knowing what Percy was thinking.

Weasleys were never in Slytherin, not ever.

He couldn't let down his family.

But he did. Oh, he did. He let them down completely. He had forgotten to do what they asked, he had forgotten the ideals that they stood for. He was a complete and utter failure.

He should have listened to the Hat. He should have been in Slytherin, and broke the prejudices of the poor lot. He could have done very well there, though he supposed that the isolation would still be there. Then again, he could have been happy. Wouldn't he have been?

His siblings had hated him from the beginning, he felt. But that didn't matter. What mattered was doing the right thing and saving the Wizarding World. The fact that his siblings detested him would have to be something to work on in the future.

He took a sip of his drink, then reached for a new piece of parchment and his quill. Ink spilled onto the page, and uncertain words were formed. Percy's hand wavered as he attempted to figure out what to say.

 _Dear Oliver,_

 _I know that I recently turned you down in regards to a meeting, but I find that I've been missing your incessant Quidditch talk. I'm sure you're very busy, and that you have very little time outside of your matches, but if you ever would like to meet and reminisce about our Hogwarts days, please return an owl._

 _Thank you,_

 _Percy Weasley_

He hastily clipped the note to the front of his paperwork, ready to send it out before the end of the day. It would reach Oliver before nightfall, and he would likely have a response the next day.

* * *

Oliver Wood glanced at his gloves in frustration. He had been playing all afternoon, and was about to call it a day. Most of the team had left practice hours ago, but he had stayed behind alone, wanting to work on his technique.

He also wanted to work out his anger, but his rage was past the tipping point. He was feeling much worse than he had did in his fourth year, when he and Percy had shouted at each other for two entire hours.

He swung his broomstick around, aiming for the ground. His rapid descent gave him a little rush of happiness, but he didn't bother to stick around.

Oliver stomped onto the muddy ground angrily, then grabbed at his broom. His mood had been rotten as of late, mainly due to the past few days under Voldemort's rule. He knew that was it; he had received a suspicious missive from Percy a few days ago.

They had been owling back and forth lately. Ever since Percy had made contact, they had been having short exchanges, as if trying to reconnect.

It was difficult; they had very few things in common. Gryffindor was one of them, and Quidditch was the other.

Percy loved Quidditch almost as much as Oliver did. Not more, of course. Nobody could ever love Quidditch more than Oliver.

That was the only reason that Oliver had responded at first. Then, slowly, they were chatting, exchanging owls frequently. There was no doubt that these owls were being intercepted. That much, Oliver could tell.

Which was why Percy's code stuck out to him. He had begun referencing things that had never happened, and people that they didn't know. Oliver knew that he wasn't as 'smart' as Percy was, but it wasn't that difficult to crack.

Percy wanted to make contact with the Order, and he had wrongfully assumed that Oliver would know how. Oliver certainly wanted to do this as well, but he hadn't even seen anyone of the Order since last year.

He should've seen them over the summer; he had been invited to Bill and Fleur's wedding. But he had a match, so he decided not to go.

Apparently, everyone there had been evacuated.

Later, in a lengthy message to Percy, he managed to convey that he was not in touch, but would also like to be so. Then, he promptly added a postscript about finally meeting up for coffee, signing his name in short script.

And then he went back onto the field, attempting to channel all of his energy into Quidditch.

* * *

Harry groaned in frustration at the Occlumency book that Hermione had forced on him. He had been studying for three hours, and thought that he was no closer to shutting his mind.

He hadn't had any visions recently, either.

But he knew he wasn't doing it right. The simple idea of Occlumency was too much for him. He couldn't guard all of his thoughts at once!

This new book, however, had mentioned briefly that one could present mundane thoughts instead. However, their lack of a gifted Legilimens didn't allow Harry to practice.

He was going off of this all by theory.

There was nobody in the farmhouse who could help him. He had asked Lupin, who had simply remarked that he hadn't been gifted with that trait. He thought Hermione might like to try Legilimency, but she had seemed shocked that he might have assumed she would want to try.

Luna thought about trying just for a sense of adventure, but she found that she might be better at Occlumency, and didn't want to do something incorrectly. And she was also focusing all of her time into barrier research.

Kingsley had been pretty busy as of late, and the twins were uninterested. He had asked Ron, but Ron had simply laughed.

And he wasn't getting much better.

Harry groaned. He had let his mind drift again, and that wasn't helping. He turned his gaze diligently back to the text, and focused on attempting to clear his thoughts once more.

At some point, he was bound to get it- right?

He nearly snorted at his thoughts, once more attempting to distract himself. He was thinking of anything and everything that was unrelated to the subject he was studying. He thought about Hermione's argument with Mrs. Weasley, where she had shouted about Lihou's house elves. That was a fun afternoon.

He wondered about Seamus and Dean, about Oliver and Lavender. They hadn't been able to contact anyone as of late, though they were having little luck with the coins, as Harry held the master one. Hermione was attempting to charm them all equal, but with little luck.

He thought about this for another hour, before resigning himself to return to his studies, frowning. He would get it, at some point. He had to.

For the sake of everyone.

* * *

Ginny frowned deeply as she stared at Harry, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. He had just gone off on another lengthy speech about how he didn't want to be the person to hurt her. How he didn't want Voldemort to go after her when they got back home.

It hadn't hurt as much as their initial breakup. Nothing could really hurt as much as that one. He wasn't her first boyfriend, but he was her first love. He was the first one that she had been upset to see go.

Now, though... Now he was repeating the same nonsense as if she really cared. She had thought that Luna had spoken to him, but apparently not.

She didn't think that she was going to have to be the one to break it to him. She knew that Harry was clueless at times, but she had hoped that someone else would have let him know.

She was over him. She had been over him for a while. There was something there when they were at the Burrow, but it had been a brief moment that she was willing to put behind herself. It was a moment of weakness. But she didn't feel the same way as he did, and it was getting annoying to hear him wax on about feelings and emotions and danger.

Especially when there was something more important going on. There were people dying and Harry was more focused on this for the time being. No wonder he was so rubbish with Occlumency- he had a one track mind.

She didn't fault him that, though. Ginny adored Harry as a friend; he was one of her best mates, if she was being honest. He was somebody that she could talk to when she needed it. He was somebody who she could rely on when Luna wasn't around. He was somebody that she could talk to when Ron was being a prat, because he knew how to calm her brother down a lot better than she did.

When Harry seemed to be finishing his speech, she finally tuned into his words, blinking. "Harry..."

"Yeah? What? Was it too much?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "We broke up months ago. Harry, I honestly just want to be your friend again."


	6. Decrees of the Highest Order

**Author's Note:** Sorry guys, it's show week! There won't be an update on Sunday because of the show; I don't like to post if i don't have four future chapters done. Thank you for your reviews and follows!

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Decrees of the Highest Order

 _ **August 18, 1998**_

"The establishment of the renegade Ministry of Magic took approximately two weeks. Whether this was due to beaurocratic paperwork or boundaries placed by the French Ministry, we do not know. This pause allowed Tom Riddle (He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named) to ultimately establish his registration committee and begin his siege of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." - _Liana Meadows, "Life and Times of Magic"_

"It was around this time that Ron and I started dancing around each other... It was always out of sight, though. We thought we were being secretive." - _Hermione Granger to Elaine Doge, writer at the Quibbler._

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The next two weeks traveled by rapidly, a thing that the occupants of the Farmhouse were grateful for. There were only a few times that people came to blows. Later on, they would all recall the events with pity and understanding.

The worst was when Ginny and Mrs. Weasley got into a shouting match over their plans for the future. Ginny had insisted that the Order take a more offensive approach in the upcoming war. Her reasoning was that they could stop more deaths by being proactive. Mrs. Weasley wanted her daughter to have nothing to do with the battle plans, though.

What started as a heated debate turned into a violent shouting match. Plans made way to shouting, despite Ginny's fair reasoning on why she should join the Order. Mrs. Weasley had lost the brief semblance of composure that she had displayed since the evacuation.

 _"You aren't even close to being old enough, Ginevra Weasley!" the woman exclaimed, stomping slippered feet. "You're still in school! You're a child!"_

 _Ginny frowned. Her features reddened in rage, her eyes fierce. "Ron was younger when he learned things from the Order! If I can't be in the damn Order, I deserve to know what's going on!"_

 _"You don't deserve anything! You've been terrible since we got here!"_

 _"You excused that a few days ago! When I apologized!" she shouted. Hot, angry tears began to slip down her face. "You said it was fine! That we were all fine!"_

 _"Well, I changed my mind!"_

 _"You can't do that, Mum!"_

 _Mrs. Weasley arched a brow. "I can't? I can't change my mind? What else can't I do, Ginny?"_

 _"I'm not a child anymore! I'm almost of age, I'm almost a full-grown witch! I should be able to do what I damn well please!"_

 _"You are not full grown! You're still a girl! You don't listen, and you act before thinking! I'm not losing you in this war!"_

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had cast a silencing charm on the bedroom door after that. The rest of the DA were thankful for the reprieve from the argument as they hid in the room. At this point, they didn't want to get involved- Ginny was in the right in their eyes. She deserved to know. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been allowed to know at a much younger age. They were in their fifth-year, and she was in her sixth. It was just as personal as it had been then.

Another argument involved the entirety of the children present. After a while of debating, the French Ministry elected to help fund the exiled Ministry of Magic. They had reservations, though, in the form of a lengthy list of rules and regulations that the group was expected to follow.

There were a few reasonable requests. If the French Ministry was going to provide resources, they wanted weekly updates and an ambassador involved in meetings. Another regulation involved their spending; there was a cap on their expenditure.

There was one rule that they all abhorred. All the students that had not completed their studies were required to attend Beauxbatons in the fall.

That had been met with a great deal of kicking and screaming. In fact, the word 'hate' had been tossed around many times by multiple parties. The only person who was excited about going back to school was Hermione, who was brazen in her euphoria.

Harry had attempted to throw a silent rebellion, which was met in turn by Remus Lupin. Once the former teacher caught wind, he decided to sit his pupil down and give him a much needed lecture.

"You know, I gave you your first sweater," he said, looking at Harry's blue sweater with a smile full of nostalgia.

"Really?"

Lupin's smile widened as he thought back to that day, recalling a pint-sized Harry dressed in red. "Yes. Your father laughed for a good ten minutes. He said that it was too big for you, and you looked malnourished. I didn't know what size to get. You did grow into it, after some time."

"Oh," Harry said. He was unwilling to remind the man that he was malnourished for the longest time. "Well, thanks."

"You didn't have to thank me, Harry. I just wanted to remind you that I've known you for the longest time. I asked Albus if I could adopt you once… everything happened. I know that I'm not Sirius, or your parents, or Albus. But you need to listen to me. This is what we're dealing with right now. These are the circumstances that we have."

"Professor Dumbledore gave us tasks to do," Harry interrupted, his lips pulled into a deep frown. "I keep saying this, and nobody seems to understand. It isn't something that can wait for a year."

"It's going to have to. They didn't give us a choice. It's not something that we have leeway with, Harry," Lupin said. "The French Ministry refuses to bend on this."

"Why not? What's in this for them?"

The man offered a bitter smile. "They want you there. They want to be able to claim that the famed Harry Potter attended Beauxbatons. They could keep an eye on you this way, too."

Harry groaned, shaking his head. "Are all politicians like this?"

"Watch it, Harry," Lupin said, his smile becoming a bit realer. "We're all about to become politicians now."

He supposed that Remus was right. They had entered into a situation where they were all going to be that slimy. It would take a lot of effort to become more than they expected. "Are they serious about this, then?"

"Extremely. The Ministry here is terrified of things spreading outside of Great Britain. It's why they're trying to help us figure out what to do. We've already come up with a few basic plans, and we're working on evacuation plans for other Order members. We may finally have a way to contact Minevra, too."

"Really?" That was a relief, at least. He had been nervous about her as soon as Hermione brought up the inevitability of Hogwarts being compromised. He didn't want anything to happen to his favorite teacher. She had been a mentor and a parent to him since he had started Hogwarts.

"We've got contact with one of the portraits from Hogwarts; we didn't realize that it had an overseas friend. And if we didn't know, the chances of Voldemort being able to recognize it is slim."

Harry frowned. "Isn't it still possible though? And how do we know that Professor McGonagall would get the message? The picture could be a spy."

"It's a painting of Hildegarde von Bingen, a fantastic artist and Potioneer. She was experimenting with Veritaserum strengths and accidentally prolonged its use. She can't lie, and she can walk through the other portraits," Lupin explained.

Harry thought it was all too convienant. There were still so many things that could go wrong. She could be lying about her origins. She could be compromised. He was hoping that the Order had looked into it enough. Lupin seemed to have understood his fears, because he looked at Harry with a bit of concern.

"Don't worry. It'll be completely safe. We have intel that nothing terrible is going to happen at Hogwarts. Of course, Snape is still there. But he wouldn't dare attack Minevra. He's petrified of her."

"Rightfully so. Wasn't Sirius a bit terrified of her, too?" Harry asked, fishing for information. Lupin wasn't in a mopey mood, so he was likely going to be able to get something out of him. Besides, he had found out he was going back to school. He needed something happy.

The werewolf smiled. "No, of course not. He actually called her 'Minnie' to her face. No fear, that one. You should've seen him when he was working on becoming an Animagus. He and your father had to carry around a Mandrake leaf in their mouths for an entire month, and they wore signs around their neck claiming that they weren't speaking on behalf of the house elves."

"How did my mum react to that? Hermione-like?"

"Not really. She didn't notice," Lupin remarked. He sniffed a bit, and then stood up from where they were sitting by the main stairs. He left Harry on the couch there, patting at his shoulder absently as he left.

Harry watched him walk away, relishing in the brief amount of information about his parents. It was always rare to hear things substantial about them. Most of the information he got was from Hagrid, who hadn't known them as well. Remus was a better source of information, but often clammed up when he asked.

Even though he supposed it had something to do with memory, it was also how his personality had evolved. The man was generally quiet and pensive, and they had a bit of trouble communicating with one another. When he found Lupin in a good mood, it was always nice. Harry now had pieces of information about his parents that he didn't have before.

And Sirius. He missed Sirius, a lot.

It was the hole in his heart, matched with the vacant Dumbledore-shaped hole. And Cedric. And his parents. And each and every person that Voldemort had ripped from the world.

He sighed, leaning his head back on the cushion, closing his eyes. As he did, he felt he sofa bend under sudden weight. When he opened his eyes, Neville and Luna were sitting down next to him, looking expectant.

"Hullo," Harry greeted, popping one eye open.

Luna smiled serenely at him, pulling her knees to her chest. "Hullo, Harry. Where are Ron and Hermione?"

"They're out on patrol," Harry answered, wracking his brain. "Should be back in a few."

"Oh. Did you have a nice chat with Professor Lupin?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I was talking to him about school. Apparently, we have to go. It's now a mandatory event."

Neville shrugged, unconcerned. "That's fine. Most of us were having to go to school next year anyway. It was only you three, you know. And I'm glad we're going somewhere that's Death Eater-less."

"To be fair, we don't know that, Neville," Harry said, sitting up straighter to look at his friends better. "We can only hope."

Luna tilted her head, a river of hair tumbling over her shoulder. She regarded them both for a second, looking like she was trying on a few sentences for size. Both Harry and Neville watched her do this with a bit of apprehension.

"Hope is a bright light nowadays," she chose, her eyes wide. "Which I hope to harness for my own before the day is done."

"That was very nice, Luna," Neville remarked.

Harry thought he seemed sincere when he said this. He was impressed; he was unsure that he would have been able to say such without laughing. Even though he loved Luna, she did tend to say the strangest things. Neville seemed to mean it, though.

"Oh, thank you. Harry, do you think we'll be getting our school supplies on the way there? Or after? Or now?"

He blinked a few times, unsure. He was still unsure why everyone expected him to know the answers to everything- that was Hermione's job. He was good for getting rid of Dementors and ruining people's lives, whilst Ron was good for tactless comments and the occasional bout of brotherly advice.

"I have no clue, Luna," he responded. It was the most diplomatic thing he could think of for the moment.

She nodded, looking towards the top of the stairs, where Fred and George were hopping down. "George, do you know?"

Neither of the twins had been paying any attention to what was going on. They hadn't even realized they had an audience as they skipped steps. So, towards Luna's question, George almost toppled down the final three stairs. With flailing arms he took down his brother, and Fred himself fell over, shouting.

George laughed loudly, stepping over his twin as he landed on the hardwood. "Do I know what, Luna dear?" he asked, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"School supply shopping."

As she clarified this, Luna shifted her weight so that she was resting on her knees, peeking over the top of the couch. Both the Weasley twins made eye contact with one another, Fred utilizing his brother's limbs to stand up.

"I'm not sure what you want to know. The ins and out? How many products Weasley's Wizard Wheezes is missing out on selling? That's quite okay- we have people minding the store for us. Would you like to know about the possibility of us doing your shopping for you? Very slim; we can't get to Diagon," George began.

Fred continued for him. "Mainly due to the U-No-Poo issue. However, we will be able to submit some sort of mail order form to you while we continue to experiment with the possibilities of overseas shipping. We can't guarantee anything for a few months. But we are planning on extending our services to the famed French school of Beauxbatons."

"No answer then?" she asked, completely unperturbed by their ramblings.

"None at all," Fred exclaimed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "No idea at all."

Luna laughed loudly, flopping back to face Neville and Harry on the couch. The twins circled around to join them, still smiling at their own private little joke. As they flopped into a few seats, Harry cracked a wide smile, content.

He always forgot how much he appreciated his friends. Although he was always around Hermione and Ron, he never recalled how many people he was completely dependent on. Harry looked at them all in awe: Luna, a practical fairy, giggling hysterically at a joke that one of the twins made. Neville, finally growing into himself, a confident person and a great friend. His round face shined as he commented something about their new schooling, eyes eager. And the twins, two halves of a greater whole, identical and full of freckles.

Harry laughed at another one of the cracks, knowing his stomach was about to ache. Will you be channeling the French this year and surrender Quidditch? "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not giving up Quidditch. Even if I'm being held against my will, I'm going to play Quidditch."

"The French will be waving their white flag the minute you step on the field," Fred said, mimicking a flag in the wind.

Neville tilted his head. "They're that bad?" he asked in confusion.

"Neville, I am always appalled at how little you seem to know about Quidditch," George said, exasperated. "Remind me to have Wood educate you the minute we see him again."

With a shake of his head, Harry placed an arm protectively over Neville. "That's a bad idea, really. Wood'll just eat him up, spit him back out, and then continue to lecture him about Quidditch until his ears fall off."

"You guys have no faith in me!" Neville exclaimed, his face a mix of mock disbelief and exasperation.

Luna pushed at his arm, snickering. "You asked if the French were good at Quidditch. Even I know that, and everyone says that I'm spacey."

They all started laughing again, shoulders bumping against one another in their amusement. Harry was about to comment about Neville's marriage to his Mimbulus Mimbletonia when Hermione approached them. She had come from the Order's meeting place, and looked nervous.

Harry's face flashed with concern as she pulled at a thread of her shirt. What was so serious that she was anxious to present the idea to her friends?

"Sorry. We need you lot in the room. We… We were conducting normal patrols this morning and we found…"

They all stood up, not wanting her to finish the sentence. It was something that they were unwilling to hear the answer to, seeing as the finish could mean so many different things. There were too many people at risk, too many objects.

Neville led the way valiantly, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Harry trailed behind them all, flicking his gaze around. Luna pressed her hand against his forearm as he passed, and he gave her a little smile before turning down the hallway.

They stopped outside of the door, knocking to be admitted. Lee Jordan opened the door a crack, making sure that Ginny and Luna weren't part of the group. A few seconds later, he pried it open, beckoning for them all to enter.

Harry paused at the edge of the door frame, looking in on the crowded table. There were piles of parchment everywhere, broken quills adding a sense of anxiety to the setting. People were poured over them, and Kingsley and Lupin were pacing in the corner of the room, opposite of each other. He felt the tension rippling from both wizards.

Lee glanced at him in confusion. "In or out, mate. In or out."

"In, Lee. Sorry," he said, stepping deeper into the room. Nobody paid him mind, and Harry almost smiled, falling into a seat besides Neville and Hermione.

Ron was across from him, a nervous look on his face. He even seemed paler, his freckles popping out more than normal. Harry almost commented, but found that it might have been the wrong time. Everyone else seemed so nervous.

He felt out of the loop, and went through Hermione's phrase as everyone seemed to wind down from their cacophony. She had said that they found something. It could have meant so many things.

They could have found a chink in the wards, seeing as they were on patrol. They could have found more bodies. No, that wasn't news. They had been finding a lot of bodies lately. Word still hadn't passed on in regards to the bubble that closed off the entirety of Britain.

He hoped that it was something a bit less dire, but Hermione's shaky state led him to believe that they found more bodies, and that the bodies were familiar.

Harry wasn't going to know until Kingsley decided to call them to order. But now, the man was still pacing back and forth, his brows furrowed in thought. Everyone else had finally settled down, stacked along the round table.

Back and forth he trailed, only pausing when Mr. Weasley cleared his voice.

"Oh," he said, looking up in surprise. His dark face darkened in a blush. "I'm sorry, everyone. I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

Nobody was willing to tell him that they hadn't been waiting that long. He seemed so apologetic about the entire thing that they would have felt guilty mentioning otherwise.

"Well… Shall we begin?"

To that there were a few nods, but only one person (Neville) responded with a statement of assent.

"Right. Well, we have a few things to go over today, mainly about our own Ministry," Kingsley began, moving to stand near the only free seat between Remus and Bill.

From the other side of Remus, Tonks shifted in her seat. "Can we discuss the patrols, please?"

"I'm getting there, Tonks," Kingsley chided. "I didn't want to dump the negativity on everyone the moment that they walked in here."

Harry found himself agreeing with Tonks, and a few other Order members murmured assent. The anxiety in the room was worse than the news could be.

"Border patrols have generally been going well. Our groups of three have been going out with Disillusionment Charms, scouting out the basic areas that we know where the wards end. Generally, we don't have any interaction with the Death Eaters, seeing as we try to stay out of the way. But we see their work. We happened to see that this morning."

His heart dropped to his stomach, and Harry nervously tapped his knee up and down. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the rest of the story.

"We… Found people this morning. People known to the Order," Kingsley continued, his voice steady despite nerves. "Arabella Figg and Dedalus Diggle were located this morning, as well as the possible body of Emmeline Vance. They were along the border, but we were unable to recover them. It was quite possibly a trap."

Despite the fact that he understood the thought, Harry felt a bit of rage that they left them there. Mrs. Figg was so kind to him when he was younger, and Dedalus and Emmeline were always so bright and happy. They didn't deserve to die. They had been good, strong people, and their deaths were in vane. In his seat, the young wizard seethed.

"I understand that it seems disrespectful, but we were unable to get to their bodies. And we aren't sure why they were there. If anything, it looks like they were placed there purposefully. Vance was supposed to be off guarding Harry's family, which immediately means that they're at risk. I'm terribly sorry about that, Harry," Kingsley continued.

Harry nodded his head in acknowledgement, his mind going a mile a minute. On one hand, he bitterly felt that the Dursley's deserved everything that they were going to get. They had been so terrible towards him, and even Dudley's feebl at a thanks was not entirely enough. But they still didn't quite deserve to be attacked by Voldemort. Nobody did.

Besides, Harry was convinced that Uncle Vernon could destroy Voldemort on his own.

"Is there anybody on backup for them?" Tonks asked. There was a piece of parchment in front of her, as if she was taking notes. "Or anyone that can take over?"

Kingsley frowned. "Nobody that we would have contact with. For now, they're on their own. We're going to have to hope that Vance, Dedalus, and Mrs. Figg were approached by someone pretending to be us."

"We're trying to look into what's going on. The French Minister is looking into activating a few agents already roaming around London. Please, do not comment on the absurdity of them being there in the first place." His final statement was aimed at Mr. Weasley, who's brows had shot up when spies were mentioned.

Neville raised his hand tentatively. "Do we have any contact with others?"

Remus took over that one, shaking his head. "No, we don't. We've been trying to get in touch with your grandmother via an old fashioned method of communication, but that didn't end up working out. We're attempting to find out a better way, looking through all the portraits."

"We don't have that many, actually. She doesn't get along with most. Spends a lot of time shrieking at them," Neville explained, ducking his head.

They went on discussing this for a few moments, and Harry followed the conversation the best he could, trying to be positive. Negativity won out, though, seeping into his thoughts. They weren't going to get in contact with Neville's grandmother, just like it was rare that they were going to be able to talk to Professor McGonagall, and how his cousin, aunt, and uncle were going to die.

That conversation faded out before long, making way for the newest additions of their form of government.

"So, now that the rest of the guests from the wedding are settled into the town, it's finally safe for us to declare ourselves a Ministry of Magic. We just have to go through the different departments and deal with that aspect," Kingsley said, shifting in his seat. He seemed uncomfortable with the entire situation.

Fleur turned in her chair to see Kingsley better. "I nominate you as our Minister for Magic," she announced, accent thick.

"Seconded," Hermione stated, echoed by Fred and George.

Kingsley's face was a mixture of embarrassment and thanks. He was about to stand graciously when they all waved him off, each person not shocked by the nomination. "Thank you," he murmured. "I mean it. Thank you."

"Ah, move on. Who do you want in your cabinet, then?" Tonks asked, amusement in her voice. Her hair had taken on a very pink-like quality, for which they were all grateful. They needed the happy color to lighten the mood.

"I think you need to give me a moment. I'm overwhelmed."

"Now, please," Fred chimed in, although he knew that he was likely not in consideration.

"Right. Well, I'd like Remus to be my Undersecretary. Tonks will be in charge of Magical Law Enforcement, and Bill will be Goblin Relations as well as Magical Creatures. Arthur, would you like to be Magical Accidents and Maladies? Good, good. Fleur will be International Magical Cooperation. I'd like Fred and George to be involved, too, though I'll have to find specific jobs for you once I think for a little while longer."

"Well, I accept, and I'm quite sure that most others will as well," Remus said, almost seeming happy despite the circumstances.

Tonks nodded her head, and Fleur offered Kingsley a bright grin. With everyone willing to move on with this idea, Kingsley pulled one of the pieces of parchment aside to write it up.

"Do we all motion that this is a good plan?" he asked, signing his name to the doctrine.

Everyone raised their hands, the word 'aye' being tossed out in a popcorn effect. Kingsley still managed to look humble as he passed around the paper and quill, and when Harry looked down, he smiled. Something felt monumental about this moment.

They were rebelling against a tyrant; they were trying their hardest to come up with a world free of prejudice. They were going to succeed.

He scrawled out his name, then passed the paper on, shaking off the shivers that ran up his arms. It was fantastic, and he was excited to have been a part.

"We'll let the Ministry know this afternoon, and we'll meet after that to talk about our first plan of action," their new Minister said, looking around the table. He met Harry's gaze, and lowered his chin ever so slightly.

Harry nodded at the man, despite not understanding if there was a hidden message behind this movement. Before he could ask, however, they had plunged into more Order business.

He resisted the urge to groan. All the meetings were becoming tedious. He wanted to get out and do something. He wanted to be able to play Quidditch, to run around, to even study. He was tired of being cooped up in the Farmhouse. It was becoming frustrating.

After all, the grounds that surrounded them were big enough for them to play Quidditch. But, according to Hermione, the entire islet was some sort of ecological sanctuary, or something like that. He hadn't paid that much attention to her statement.

One could only play Exploding Snap so many times, though. He knew that much.

"Do we know anything about Beauxbatons?" Mrs. Weasley asked, dragging Harry from his thoughts. His eyes sharpened on the proceedings, curiosity getting the better of him.

Fleur stood up at this. "We are able to proceed, as I mentioned at the last meeting. Madame Maxime is perfectly amendable to the plans that we have, and she will place the students in their corresponding Hogwarts years. For now, they will have to return to school a few days early to work out their schedules. Madame Maxime would like our professors to decide where to place them."

"That sounds reasonable," Mr. Weasley said, rubbing at his chin.

With a nod, the witch slid back into her seat. She stood a moment later though, embarrassed. "Oh! And Beauxbatons will provide the uniform and the school supplies, as requested. It was a bit difficult to get them to comply, but I mentioned the aptitude of the students they were about to gain. The students only need to gather the texts themselves."

There was no doubt that Madame Maxime was salivating over the idea of having Hermione attend her school. That would surely boost any test scores that they already had. And Ginny, too, was extremely talented. Neville was a brilliant in Herbology, Luna was… something.

And he was Harry Potter. That, sadly, didn't mean much to him, but everyone else allowed it to mean so much.

"Thank you, Fleur," Kingsley said genuinely, watching as she sat back down. "Now, in regards to the border patrols that we generally set up. I'd like to propose that we continue setting out our patrols, but in groups of four instead, not quite approaching the wards. I'd like to have them patrolling for two hour sessions before we switch guards. Any objections?"

Three people raised their hands, and Harry resisted the urge to groan. There went the rest of his afternoon.


	7. Shopping and Stopping

**Author's Note:** Have a great week! I own nothing.

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Shopping and Stopping

 ** _August_ 20, 1998**

"Most Witches and Wizards do not actually live that far apart. Unless one lives in an ancestral home, there have been studies showing that magical families generally live near one another on 'pockets of magic'. The most populated places with magic are Guernsey, Hogsmeade, Devon, and many parts of Ireland." _\- A Study of Recent Developments in History_

* * *

Harry pulled down on the sleeves of his sweater, frowning. It was itchy, uncomfortable, and an ugly blue. It was a two-year-old leftover of Dudley's, a thing that was beginning to show. The thing was ratty and frayed, strands of thread sticking out at random. With an absent-minded scratch of his wrist, he sighed. "I don't understand why she keeps acting like this," he complained to Ron, anguish in his voice. He fingered his wand as he spoke, pondering stretching his shirt.

"I don't know why you're complaining. She isn't your mum," Ron muttered. He, too, was wearing too-small clothes; Hermione had packed his old jeans and he hadn't noticed.

Harry shifted his weight back and forth, staring at the door of the Farmhouse. Even though they were far enough away that she wouldn't be able to hear, he was still being careful. "She's being unreasonable." He turned his head to Ron, his face downtrodden.

"Hey, you were the one complaining about 'never leaving the premises'. You could have moped safely around the bedroom."

That was true. He did mention a few (hundred) times that he wanted to leave the home, and Mrs. Weasley had only complied with his wish. Now he was required to go into town with Ron and buy food from the grocer. He had meant that he wanted to play Quidditch, but that hadn't gotten across.

Grocery shopping was a very boring task, especially on the island. They had only been to the city once, and Harry had already found himself completely bored. Because of the housing restrictions, everyone knew one another. As strangers, they were tourists, and a few people wanted to know how long they were staying. This time, Harry and Ron were hoping that they wouldn't run into the same people. It would make their original answer of "two weeks" a bit awkward.

"Didn't mean I wanted to be sent out for chores, mate," Harry grumbled. Secretly, he was glad that they were finally out of the house. He was getting tired of avoiding people, getting tired of having to quell the fears of the DA, getting tired of the arguing that ensued throughout the home. They were all cooped up and he needed a break. It was like his fifth year all over again.

Ron laughed, shoving at Harry's arm. "Yeah, you did. Do you have the list?" He couldn't object; his

"Yeah," Harry said, displaying the parchment. He shoved it back into his rear pocket, wrinkling his nose. At least, it was a few inches long, written in the loopy handwriting of Mrs. Weasley. It was long and expansive, and they had been threatened with cleaning if they didn't get everything exactly correct.

Not that Harry really minded the cleaning. When he wasn't being forced to by the Dursley's, it wasn't actually that bad. It helped clear his mind. That didn't mean he enjoyed it; he'd much rather be off doing other things. There weren't that many things to do in the Farmhouse, though.

"She said not to dawdle," Ron reminded him, gesturing towards the pathway down Guernsey. The pair stared at the trail for a moment, deciding whether they wanted to leave the safety of the island. But at the thought of Mrs. Weasley's rage, they instead turned their heads, trotting down the rough road.

Lihou was approximately twelve minutes from the L'Eree Bay, and had a few shops, a hotel, and an ice cream parlor. The butcher was a bit farther off, but it wasn't that much of a stretch. Main Guernsey, which was a little over an hour away on foot, had a bit more to offer, but they weren't certain that they were going to make it over there. It was far and it was supposed to rain later in the day.

"Can we stop for a bite, do you reckon?" Harry asked as they made their way down towards the bridge connecting the town. Hermione, who had gone on the last trip, had mentioned that there was a pretty decent Indian place. They could get takeaway and eat it on their way back.

Ron nodded his agreement as he stared at the land bridge. It was a large mass that stretched towards the island, rumored to appear only two weeks out of the month. The Order had charmed the barrier so that it would stay afloat, unsure of when they were going to be able to escape. Muggle repellent charms allowed the general occupants to assume that nothing had changed. Only once had Kingsley had to modify a Muggle's memory, and that was when a teacher wanted to host a field trip on the island.

Despite not doubting the Order's ability to charm the path, they were hesitant. This was still a natural sand bridge, and there was always the possibility that it could break and fall. Even though Ron had helped with the enchantment, he was hesitant to step onto the mass.

It held, as did their nerves. Harry looked at Ron, and Ron looked at him. A second later they dissolved into laughter. The pair took off, chatting about Quidditch and ignoring the blatant elephant of their upcoming school term.

They were still discussing Puddlemere's upcoming season when they approached the village. There was an underlying fear to those words- what would happen to Oliver? But they ignored it to discuss what teams he was bound to play.

"Do you reckon they'll make it very far?" Ron asked as they hit Les Sablons, walking around the cobblestone road. They were now pretty close to the shops, and were passing the L'Eree Hotel. Further up there was a little place titled "Taste of India", where they hoped to eat at on the way back.

"I bet they'll lose to the Harpies and the Tornadoes," Harry said. "Wood'll love that. Bet he'll spend most of the match distracted by Jones."

"Nah, they'll cream the Harpies. Their Chasers are crap, Ginny's been wailing about it all week!"

He had heard about it more than once. "Well, they still have a faster Seeker."

"You're biased," Ron insisted. There was a grin when he spoke, as if he wasn't more fond of his own position. "Besides, when has Wood stopped watching the Quaffle for a girl?"

Harry shrugged, letting the conversation fade as they neared the market. He didn't want them to be overheard, mainly because nobody had told the pair who was actually magical in this community. Or, rather, if there were any magical families that lurked around Guernsey.

As they approached the market, a few people began surfacing. Joggers turned corners, and people poked their heads out of little cottages. They recognized the two of them, clearly, as a little flicker of suspicion went up on a few faces.

Harry wondered if this was because of them returning to town, or because of their actual nature. Were these wizards and witches, angered because they had no contact with the outside? Or were they Muggles, wondering what exactly what the pair was doing back?

It was clear that they had lied. It had been over two weeks, and there they were, back again. Nobody stayed so long, and nobody was able to get back and forth from Lihou. What were the two of them supposed to say? That they extended their stay?

Ron ducked his head, mumbling under his breath. "Got nothing better to do, do they?"

"I suppose not," Harry said grimly. He pushed open the door to the grocery, and the bell rang out their entrance.

From her seat at checkout, an elderly woman glared at them down the bridge of her nose. Harry and Ron didn't recognize her from the last time they had visited, but he knew from Hermione's explanation that she hated all tourists.

She growled at them, and the pair darted immediately past her. She was worse than Filch in Harry's opinion. During their frantic escape Ron scooped up a basket.

Harry pulled the list from his pocket as they lurked by a large stack of apples. "Fruit, fish, potatoes, tomatoes… This does go on, doesn't it?"

"Why does it just say fruit? You know she only wants a certain amount, and a certain type, but of course she won't tell us. Just wants to blow her top off when we get back, probably."

Ron pulled a few apples from the top of the stack, regarding them for a moment. Deciding they were alright, he then grabbed for a few more, selecting a dozen and putting them in a basket. He wasn't sure how many people cared for apples, but he didn't seem to be bothered.

Without much comment, Harry grabbed a few bunches of bananas, then placed them on top of the apples. "I don't think she really means it that way. I guess she wanted us to pick them out ourselves. Do you suppose she has a specific menu planned?"

"Nah," Ron said, his freckles bouncing with his assumption. "She likes being creative and all that. Go grab a basket, mate. We're running out of room already."

With a laugh, he simply nodded, going to retrieve the cart from the front of the store. The old woman was still there, her sunken gaze filled with hatred. She was shrunken in her seat, overtaken by wrinkles. Harry was reminded of Mrs. Figg, though this woman was far more ancient and looked far meaner.

As he swung around the cart, Harry glanced towards the old lady. "Er, hello. Nice day, is it?"

She snorted, and turned around, saying nothing. Harry stood there awkwardly for a moment, then promptly shoved the cart over to the back of the shop where Ron was still piling food into the basket.

He had moved past fruit, and was now onto the vegetables. Harry cast a nervous glance at the pile, which now included oranges, apples, dragon fruit, kiwis, and bananas. He knew that Ron had moved far past what his mother wanted.

"She's going to curse you," Harry remarked, taking two bags of potatoes from his friend's arms and lugging them into the cart. After, he added two bushels of asparagus, much to Ron's dismay. "Honestly. Why did you grab so much fruit?"

"She said to grab fruit! It isn't my fault Mum wasn't specific enough, is it?"

Harry rolled his eyes, then glanced down at the list again. They moved closer to a different aisle, picking up a few loaves of bread and two cases of eggs. Everything looked fresh, which was nice. Mrs. Weasley was going to be excited.

Ron pulled up two jugs of milk and a few different cheeses. With the French Ministry paying, they didn't mind the prices. Sometimes being on the verge of war had its upsides.

Ignoring tags, they piled a few choice meets and fishes into the cart until it was creaking under the weight. Finally, in the last aisle, they added crackers, pretzels, and more than a few sweets.

"Do you think we have enough?" Harry asked, laughing.

His friend had the grace to look embarrassed, but he didn't move to take anything away. Why should he? Harry had to disagree, but he wasn't about to spoil the mood. He didn't want to take advantage of the French. As he also didn't want to start an argument about money, he regarded the list instead, ducking his head.

The bell tolled as another customer answered, and Harry shoved the list away nervously. They didn't need anyone commenting about someone using parchment in this day and age. He really should've brought some normal paper so that they didn't have to act so suspicious.

Ever-so-clueless, Ron tilted his head, regarding their pile of food with a bit of nervousness. "Can I check the list again? I don't want her to yell if we come back with all this and we missed a bit or two."

With a sigh, he brought it back out. He displayed the parchment to Ron, who looked over the lines with great detail. His lips formed the words as he double checked each food item in the cart. It was the most thorough that he had been in a while, which made Harry almost miss someone shoving gently past them.

Harry turned his head, noticing that the newest entrée was a small boy, around the height of Dennis Creevey. When he didn't move over, both he and the kid regarded each other.

"Oh. You're the strangers then, aren't you?" the child asked, cornflower blue eyes staring up at the two wizards. "Mum did say you were a weird lot. What do you have there?"

Ron stopped his reading, whirling around in confusion. "What?" he asked dumbly, trying to understand the phrases. In the past few moments he had managed to relocate a lot of their items back to the shelves. He hadn't noticed the child arrive.

"Mum said you were weird. You lot. You're holding some old parchment. Why? Don't you have pens and papers?"

Harry winced, taking the lead on this interaction. "Only thing we could find up at the house, you know. His mum thought it would be cute to send us up like this. Left her stationary up at their house."

"You're from mainland, then?" he asked innocently, rocking back in forth that only continued to display his youth. Ron managed to regain a bit of his footing, and tried his hand in the conversation.

"Yeah. Ottery St. Catchpole."

The child dimpled. "I've some family over there. Would you know them?"

"He probably wouldn't. They don't get into town a lot," Harry interrupted. "They're very nearly shut-ins."

"You seem to be speaking an awful lot for your friend."

With that, the two boys turned away from the child, gathering up their things. Harry shoved the list in his back pocket, and Ron pushed at the cart. "He's rather stupid."

"Oi! I am not."

He gave his friend a piercing stare, one that pointedly told him to shut it without saying a word. "You are, really. I'm sorry, who even are you, anyway?" This question was aimed at the child, who was now following them to the front of the shop.

"The name's Vee. Well, Everett, rather, but I prefer Vee. Are you quite done being strange?"

Unfortunately, the two boys weren't certain they were done being strange. To them, this innate weirdness wasn't actually that. It was just their lives. Magic was like that, really. Living without it made it seem that they were strange, awkward. Ron barely knew how to carry himself, and Harry had slipped back into the orphan niche that he had grown accustomed too.

Ron, ever so polite, looked back over his shoulder. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Vee," he said, pushing the cart towards the front of the store.

"You didn't answer my question, you know," Vee said seriously, his face becoming solemn. They didn't respond to the child, continuing to move closer to the grumpy old woman at the front.

Everett continued to saunter behind them, unconcerned with this dismissal. As Harry turned his head slightly, he noticed that the boy's gaze was brighter, almost playful. Sandy hair bounced as this mismatched trio stepped, and Ron had a look of fear as he noticed that he had joined them.

Harry whipped his head back to the front, gracing the old woman with yet another winning smile, summoning his inner Lockhart.

Once again, she responded by glaring, her lips curled under. Towards the child, she hissed. "Everett Mathers! Get away from that lot! Or I'll tell your mother you were here. Go off and do your Spelling!"

There was a moment of pause for all three. Everett seemed to slunk off after that, his head bowed in shame. Harry and Ron had a moment of confusion, staring in shock at the boy. Spelling? Magic? No, it couldn't be. But it seemed that the child had relatives in Ottery. Didn't they have a great deal of wizards there?

The village had two at least: the Lovegoods and the Weasleys. But there had to be more. Where else would they all go?

Hogsmeade. But wouldn't they all be bored there? And holed up, for certain.

Which led him to another question. How many wizards were there actually? How many families? Did they really need to do what the purebloods wanted?

He was stuck on this loop while they were being checked out. The elderly woman made snide comments as they bundled all of the items into bags. She really was a nasty piece of work. At least twice in the past five minutes she had called them disgusting, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

Finally, when she had finished packaging all the food into reusable bags (which were, of course, an extra fee), she looked towards the two of them with such hatred. Finally, Ron had had it.

"Don't like tourists?" he asked coolly, his ears reddening. "How do you want to get your revenue, then?"

She looked down her nose at him. It was a great beak of a thing, wrinkled upwards and angered. Her grey brows were knitted forward in rage. "Not from brats who think they rule the world," she said vehemently.

"We don't think we rule the world!" Ron exclaimed, his lips pulled into a frown.

Harry agreed, but he didn't know if he could do so as much as he wished. Before he could say anything, the old woman had spoken again, getting up from her stool.

"You shut us all off, without so much as a warning! What if we wanted to be over there? Huh?"

They froze. Did she mean what they thought she meant?

Had she meant what she said to Everett?

"We were doing just fine here," she continued, stalking towards them. They started stepping backwards, towards the door. They wanted out, away from the crazy woman. They didn't know who she was, and it was getting dangerous.

For all they knew, she was a Death Eater, or sympathized with one. She reminded them terribly of Umbridge, who was certainly the latter.

They felt around for their wands and a way to calm the hag. "Don't blame us, really!" Ron exclaimed, waving his arms in an attempt to assuage her. "We didn't do anything!"

"You've done enough! You've dragged us into it all, you have! We'll be murdered in our sleep! Killed! Just because you lot couldn't keep your act together."

Harry gaped, anger flashing in his eyes. "Couldn't keep our act together? Getting nearly killed for years has to do with getting our act together?"

"Oh, it most certainly does."

He was beginning to find that she was acting a bit like Severus Snape. How was all of this his fault? The entire failures of the Wizarding world, that was his own fault? As a baby, he decided that he wanted to be the only solution to save the world?

"You're right," Harry said dryly, pushing his back against the door. It swung open, and the two of them shoved themselves out, bags dripping off of their shoulders. She didn't move to follow them, and they didn't look back at the door.

They didn't say anything for a moment. They just stared at the ground outside, unsure of what to do, what to say. They just stood there, bags of groceries on their shoulders.

Ron spoke first. He thought that he knew what to say, mainly because he was so enraged on behalf of his best friend. "She's a piece of work, isn't she?"

"Yeah," Harry responded, looking towards the ground. "Guess that's the general public's opinion of all this, isn't it?"

The red-headed boy shook his head rapidly. "No. No, not really. I don't suppose it is. And if it is, it won't be for long."

A voice piped up beside them, clear and innocent. "Not what all of us think, you know."

Harry whipped around, making eye contact with Everett. They boy was looking up at them with a sense of curiosity. They didn't know why he was still there, nor did they care. Instead, they just trudged along towards the restaurant they were promised, with the boy trailing behind.

"I'm serious, you know. I don't mind you lot at all. Makes me excited for Hogwarts and all that. I can't go anymore, though," Everett continued.

Ron and Harry exchanged a look.

"Your mum won't send you somewhere else?" Ron asked. Harry remained silent, staring stonily towards the pathway.

Everett shrugged. "Nah. She doesn't want me off in France ruining everything. Her words, not mine. I rather think I'd be in Hufflepuff, if you were wondering. I only cause minor amounts of trouble and chaos."

"I know quite a few that cause more," Ron said conversationally.

Harry snorted, but said nothing else. He knew that Ron meant Zacharias, as their other Hufflepuff friends were much kinder than that. Only he was a pompous brat.

With that, they were upon the new shop, and they both turned to the child.

"Anything else we should know, Vee?" asked Harry, his lips pulled into a frown. "Before we go grab some lunch?"

The boy looked pensive for a moment. Neither Harry nor Ron knew exactly what he was going to say. It was an awkward moment before Everett spoke again.

Then, finally, "Don't get the special. It's always frogs, you know."


	8. Over the River

**Author's Note:** If you've already read this chapter before, there have been two little content changes that will not affect the future. It was just me changing around wording and playing about with what happened while they were in Lihou. I've a few extras from their times that I may add when I finish the story. If you're a new reader, please keep in mind that the rest of the chapters may not yet be up to par grammatically and content-wise, but I'm working on it.

I own nothing, and I enjoy your reviews and favorites.

* * *

Over The River

 ** _August 28, 1998_**

"There are three notable magical schools in Europe that can claim to be the biggest and the best, dwarfing those other collegiate level schools and academic conservatories that riddle the continent. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are the more exclusive and reclusive of the lot, actually hiding their location..." _A Concise History of the Three Largest Magical Schools_

* * *

The last two weeks of their summer passed without much consequence. That didn't mean that anything was easy, though. There were still plenty of obstacles, plenty of problems, and a great deal of newspaper articles that caused Harry's stomach to churn.

It started with difficulties among the main island. After one week they had finally managed to register most of Geurnsey's magical residents. It was harder than it looked; most of the individuals didn't want to be a part of the new Ministry. Kingsley had chosen three new officers from the island, though, deciding that it was best to secure their alliances. They were likeable wizards, but it didn't rectify the problem. The dissidents were still there, trying to cause problems.

They had tried to break the Statute of Secrecy on three occasions. There was a very irate woman who had cast a few curses on some very innocent Muggles, and it took both Ron and Tonks to take her down. Another wizard had levitated a cat in front of twelve others, and a witch had ignited the town courthouse.

The new Ministry had taken every precaution against them, but they didn't know what to do with the protesters.

They didn't have anywhere else to go.

When that had become an issue, the French Ministry took it into their own hands. They had proclaimed those few citizens to be 'Dangerous Criminals' and detained them on their own land. That had caused a bit of an uproar, but it was an isolated incident. Someone was upset that their grandmother had been removed from the island.

Having met the woman, Harry was a bit relieved she was gone. Who knew what else the woman was going to get into?

Other incidents were less magical, though by no means less frustrating.

After their unfortunate experience at the grocery, Mrs. Withersham had been the ringleader of this brief little revolution. Luckily, it was mainly made up of the elder wizards and witches of the island, and quite a few Squibs. Apparently, the barrier islands were the breeding ground for Squibs, if one could put it that way. So many pureblood families deposited their children there.

Somewhere on the island were Blacks and Goyles and Crabbes; past generations of wizarding families that were in danger of fading due to the affliction.

Mrs. Withersham had collected a group of them, and, despite having no magical powers herself, attempted to locate the hidden Lihou farmhouse. They all knew it was there, but due to the excessive amount of wards, they were unable to remember the exact location.

It was amusing. The farmhouse couldn't move, and Lihou was such a small little island. But, nevertheless, they were unable to find the abode, and simply lurked around the pathway for hours. Mrs. Withersham looked furious, and Harry was certain that she had the thought on the tip of her tongue.

He was actually proud of the person who had cooked up the wards.

Kingsley had to go out and shout at them to make them go away. The Order crammed their faces against the windows, watching as the man strode out there. Frustration pressed at his features, disguised to the best degree. One could only locate it through the slight twitch of his brows.

"Excuse me!" he had shouted, attempting to be kind. "Although I appreciate your right to protest, you're going to draw attention! We wouldn't want the Muggles to find out, would we?"

They hadn't responded kindly to that. Harry couldn't hear them clearly. They were a mass of ten loud individuals, shrieking about their rights and desires.

The attempts at negotiation lasted four hours, but to no avail. Kingsley simply had managed to disperse them, but the group had spent the next few weeks after attempting to break the Statute of Secrecy, contact Voldemort, and cause general ruckus throughout Guernsey.

When the French Ministry intervened yet again, Harry felt that they looked weak. They couldn't stop their own people from rioting against them. They needed international intervention.

Remus had agreed, but as he had so tactfully put it, "We can't do shit about that at the moment." It was the first time that he had heard the man curse, but he was having a lot of trouble recently. They hadn't brought enough Wolfsbane for another month, and they were having trouble figuring out where to procure it.

Harry knew that they could probably brew it themselves if Hermione got in on it. But nobody was a strong enough potioneer, nor did they have the instructions. Snape had 'lost' them last year, and Harry sure as hell didn't buy that excuse.

These general problems were enough to keep the entirety of the Order busy for the rest of August. In fact, September was sneaking up on them, and fast. They had less than a week until they were expected to start up at Beauxbatons, and it was becoming almost frightening to think that they were going to be gone from the war council so soon.

How were they going to adjust? They had just spent an entire month plotting and planning the demise of Lord Voldemort. They had spent time attempting to break the barrier (to no avail). They were spying to the best of their ability. And then, all of a sudden, they were expected to act as if they were normal teenagers.

He wasn't certain it was going to work. It seemed as far-fetched as their newest attempt to break the shell holding the entirety of Britain.

Although they were certain that a rock or a bird were able to pass through, anything magical was having problems. It was like they were tuned to the incorrect station. Everything was fuzzy. It seemed like an adaptation of Muggle Repellent Charms.

Harry threw a rock in frustration, watching as it landed a few feet past the invisible wall. He was getting so frustrated with the whole thing. Somewhere out there, people were dying. And they couldn't get in. He couldn't save them.

He was a failure.

He tossed another, letting out a shout of frustration. Next to him, Padma Patil gave him a warning look. They weren't invisible, nor silenced. Death Eaters could still locate them, even though they were outside of the typical route.

Nodding apologetically towards Padma, Harry ran a hand through his dark locks. They had been at it for an hour, attempting to find just a small kink in the armor. With Charms not being his strongest course, he was having a rough time.

Luna was enjoying it thoroughly, though he supposed that could have been based off of pure determination. She was hoping to make contact with her father at some point.

"You're putting too much force in it, Harry," the younger girl remarked, looking towards Padma for confirmation. Padma had turned her back on them briefly, asking Tonks a question.

After a second, she turned back around. "Oh, yeah. You're thinking of Charms as an offensive sort of magic. It isn't really like that. Right?"

"It's more defensive, yeah," Tonks volunteered. Her hair was a shocking pink again, and cheeks rosy and happy.

Harry tilted his head. "Defensive? Really?"

"Well, think about it," Padma explained patiently. "Most charms are adapting a part of your body, or your demeanor. Or repelling Muggles. You aren't acting on the offense. You're protecting something."

Luna nodded. "Of course, you have quite a few charms that are more violent. But generally they've changed the nature of an object for a defensive purpose. Cheering charms were invented to help those suffering from depression."

"Though it seems like a backwards way of working," Padma said. Tonks nodded her head in agreement.

He understood it pretty well, but felt that there must be an aspect missing. Defense was, well, defensive. And he was good at that. He had no problem using certain charms during Defense Against the Dark Arts.

However, one could argue that DADA was pretty offensive. They learned the most dangerous spells in that class.

"I'm not sure magic can ever be straightforward," Harry replied. He looked towards the barrier apprehensively. It was further proof that magic didn't work quite right.

There was something sinister about the wall, just sitting there. The fuzzy feeling was still there, lurking in the back of his mind. Then, it grew larger.

Luna yelped. Harry whipped his head towards her, noticing the girl hopping up and down, clutching at her elbow. "I grazed it!" she was shouting, her lips pulled into a frown. "I wasn't that close, and then I grazed it! It shocked me!"

Padma took a step back, alarmed. Her arm reached out to drag Luna with them, and Tonks herded the group up with a simple tilt of her head.

"I think it may be growing." Tonks looked pale as she said this. After a pause, she added, "It's farther past our original markings. Look."

She gestured with her wand arm, and they all looked. Sure enough, the leaves that they had charmed to the ground were stuck in a sort of pull-and-twist maneuver. They were magical, so they couldn't pass the barrier. They were pulling the ground away from the original spot.

Dirt and dust clung to the new outline of the barrier. The quartet took a step back, Harry looking concerned. How were they supposed to find a way in if it was getting larger?

"I think it was something we did," Padma insisted. She twirled her wand around, narrowing her gaze. "There's no other explanation that would make sense. It hasn't grown before."

Luna turned her head, still rubbing at her elbow. "I'm certain it was something we did. We were getting too close."

"Do you think it was the modified reverse Muggle Repellent Charm that I had mixed with Bombardo? Or perhaps something you were trying?" Padma ventured. As a Ravenclaw, it seemed she was enjoying this.

Tonks tilted her head. "I think it may have been something Luna was doing. It did extend from her point. She was the first to be 'attacked' by the barrier."

"I actually didn't cast a singular spell," Luna said, a blush spreading across her pale features. "I was just thinking of how much I wanted to see Daddy. It felt like there were a few locks there, and I was bursting through them. There was only one left when I got stung."

Tonks froze for a moment, and her lack of movement startled them. "They'll know we were here. Luna's magical scent will be all over the barrier, and they'll know we were tampering."

The group exchanged grim glances, and immediately latched on to one another. With a crack, they Apparated towards the farmhouse to reconvene with the rest of the Order.

Their landing was met with arched brows and confused looks. The Weasley twins were lurking on the lawn, their faces frozen in surprise. The group was not expected back for another hour, and their sudden arrival could only mean something bad.

Tonks immediately darted off, attempting to reconnect with any of the elder Order (and New Ministry) members. She left Padma, Luna, and Harry to the twins, who looked as if they wanted to know what was ensuing.

"Barrier bit Luna," Harry remarked. It was straight and to the point, without giving out a lot of details.

Padma rolled her eyes at Harry, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Luna nearly broke through, and the wards reacted negatively. They pushed back towards us and struck her elbow."

"Are you hurt?" George asked, widening his eyes. The twins had grown awfully fond of Luna lately, having been crammed under the roof with her for almost a month.

She extended her arm obligingly, shrugging. "Not really. It stings quite a bit, though."

"Maybe you should ice it," Padma suggested. "I'm sure that magic might only hurt it at this point."

Fred linked arms with Padma and Luna, taking great care not to injure the latter's elbow. "Let us deal with that, then. Before the dreaded meetings begin."

Harry trailed behind them as they sauntered towards the house. George dropped to his side, looking to be deep in thought. Both of them said nothing, thinking to themselves. It was still frightening to think that the wards had jumped forward when they got closer.

"We're going to have to be more careful," George muttered, more to himself than Harry. Harry had to agree, though.

They were either going to be more careful or dead.

Voldemort wasn't going to let them get away with it a second time. He would figure out what they were doing, and stop it somehow. Even though they weren't sure that anything could pass the wards, it was frightening.

Would he bother? He could strengthen them just as easily. He had already won. Why would he need to prove that he could beat them further?

It was a good thing that they were leaving soon. In fact, they were supposed to be going to France that afternoon, after the investigation.

Harry wondered if they would leave earlier because of it, just out of precaution.

He and George took the three steps up to the porch of the farmhouse with heaved breaths, and, lugging themselves through the atrium, dropped onto the couches. Luna was already settled against one, pressing a package of cold peas to her injury.

Mrs. Weasley was fussing behind her.

"Luna, dear, don't press too hard," she was saying. Harry cracked a grin as Mrs. Weasley continued. "Are you sure you don't want me to heal it?"

Padma had reconnected with her twin, and they were lounging opposite of Luna, between Neville and Ron. When Harry and George approached, Padma jerked her head in the direction of the general meeting room. George parted from the group easily, moving to report to Kingsley.

Harry moved around the couch. "Padma thinks that it might cause more pain."

Mrs. Weasley frowned. "Was it magically sustained?" she asked, moving to investigate closer. Luna sighed, and lifted her arm. It seemed that something was finally irritating her, and Harry leaned backwards. He wasn't sure he wanted to be near the outcome.

"We think so," Luna replied. Harry moved away from the group, not really wanting to hear the fussing any longer.

As he did so, Ron pushed off of the couch with a sigh. They joined up at the grand staircase, matching pace as they walked up the stairs.

"How was it?" Ron asked. He knew how much Harry hated going off and tampering with the wards.

He crinkled his nose as they stomped up the final two stairs. "The same, really. Luna got really close, as you can probably tell. I really wish she had done it, though."

They turned down the hall, moving towards the bedroom that the trio had claimed as their own. The door was ajar, and as Harry pressed against it, he heard Hermione and Ginny's frustrated tones.

"Yeah, that would have been nice. Being able to be home for dinner. Not sure my house is even still standing, though," Ron was saying as they walked in.

Hermione interrupted them with her own rant. They couldn't see her face, but they assumed it was red with rage. "I can't belit! I can't! It's absolutely ridiculous!"

"We can't do anything about it, you know," Ginny was saying. "They've already made up their minds. We have no choice. Luna and I got lucky with this one."

Harry and Ron exchanged confused looks, stepping into the room with hesitation. They weren't sure that they wanted to hear what was going on. If Hermione was upset, that mean that it had something to do with school.

And they weren't sure they really wanted to think about school.

They were already going shopping today, and that was more than enough school-talk for the two of them. Harry didn't want to go; he didn't want to admit that they had lost. Ron just didn't want to do another year of school.

"You okay, Hermione?" Ron asked. Harry shot him a dirty look. He had broken the unspoken decision.

She swung around to face them. It was clear that she had been crying, as her eyes were rimmed with red. There were tear tracks slipping down her face, but neither of them wanted to comment on that. Her face was a bright pink, and one could almost imagine the steam pouring out of her ears.

"No!" she shouted. "No, no, no!"

Ginny narrowed her eyes them. "I had just calmed her down," she grumbled, pushing past Hermione. She approached the two boys with the slightest flint of anger in her gaze, just as scary as Hermione. "You lot better be downstairs in fifteen minutes. Mum wants to go supply shopping early."

Ron rolled his eyes at his sister, taking a further step into the room. He placed his arms on Hermione's shoulders, looking straight into her eyes. "Hey, really. What's wrong?"

"We're retaking our exams!" she exclaimed. Her eyes watered up instantly, overflowing with tears. "We have to retake them! Without notice! I haven't studied, I haven't practiced! We've been here for a month! Why didn't they tell us?"

Oh. Oh. That made sense. That explained the complete meltdown that she was having. Of course they were making them retake the exams. Hadn't Fleur said that they took them after six years of study? Their O.W.L scores must not have translated over well. But why was Hermione freaking out? She was the smartest of them.

Harry thought he and Ron would have more problems. They were out of practice for some of their subjects- most notably History. They hadn't paid much attention to start with.

"They probably didn't think it was important," Ron was saying. He slowed down his breathing, clearly attempting to get Hermione to follow suit. "I'm sure you'll be fine. You're the smartest person I know."

Hermione gave him a wavering smile, and Harry felt suddenly awkward. "You're the smartest person I know, too," he interjected. Ron and Hermione broke apart suddenly, turning to look at them.

"Thank you," she said breathily. "Oh, do you think I could cram a year's worth of studying in one night?"

Both Harry and Ron laughed, despite knowing that she was being absolutely serious. They didn't bother to respond to that. She was clearly going to do so anyway. Maybe, though, they could distract her enough that she wouldn't bury herself in their old textbooks.

"I'm sure you'd much rather study for the upcoming year, though. Even if we only know the general core classes we're taking. We do know that, right?" Harry asked, furrowing his brows. He wasn't entirely sure.

Hermione shrugged. "We know what we're expected to take as core classes. But Beauxbatons has a specific way that they organize things."

"Do we have to take Divination?" Ron asked, paling. "I thought we were done with that."

Harry laughed, clapping his hand on Ron's shoulder. "I think we're free from that one, mate. But I thought I heard something about them having 'Hypnosis' or something like that."

"It's just an Occlumency and Legilemency course, you dolts," their friend replied, wiping at her eyes. She seemed to be perking up just a bit now that they were talking about school. "According to the books about the school. And Fleur."

Ron cracked a smile. "And how many of the books have you read?"

"Only four," Hermione said defensively. "I read 'Beauxbatons: A Legacy' as some light reading last year, and I had already finished 'A Concise History of the Three Largest Magical Schools' when we started at Hogwarts. And then recently I decided to read 'At the Académie' and 'The Memories of Joan D'Arc' once it was decided that we were to go to Beauxbatons."

"Anything we should know?" Harry asked curiously.

Hermione grinned. Yes, she was definitely feeling better. She was practically beaming as she began to lecture them about the school's finer qualities. "Well, their terms are the same as ours, which is nice. But we have a break on Wednesdays and classes on Saturday mornings. And they're very proper there. Everyone must be on time for everything, and teachers are treated with respect. You've got to stand whenever the Headmistress enters the room, you know."

"Oh, really? Is that why they kept standing each time Madame Maxime walked in? Blimey- no wonder they're all skinny," Ron remarked.

"I think that may be because they eat much lighter fare, Ronald. Though I think they do serve an excess of bread. However, they actually have classes for Quidditch and for the arts. I think that's very nice, don't you?"

Harry nodded in agreement, while Ron simply shrugged. It was nice to hear Hermione speak excitedly about classes. It was something that had been missing for the past month. They were actually willing to ignore the impending doom of school shopping in order to allow her a moment of happiness.

Of course, they forgot how long Hermione could go on about classes. She was waxing on about the finer points of Beauxbatons' classes when Ginny stuck her head back in the door, frowning.

"I told you three to be downstairs in fifteen. It's almost time to leave. Seriously!"

They didn't argue with her, and immediately gathered up the few things that they had left around room. Hermione and Ron had packed while Harry was out, and Harry himself had packed the night before. All that was left was to cast a charm to make sure that they received all of their things.

Harry grabbed at his sack, which had been recently procured by Mrs. Weasley. It currently held all of the items that Hermione had procured before the wedding, all piled inside. He was forever grateful for Extension charms, but the thing was still extremely heavy.

He shoved it onto his shoulder, and Hermione grabbed for her beaded bag. Ron shifted his backpack onto his shoulder, grimacing. They weren't sure they were ready.

They had all got used to the nooks and crannies of the farmhouse. Lihou had been a marvelous home for them for the past few weeks, and they weren't sure that they wanted to leave. Of course, they were probably going to be back over break, but that seemed so far away.

The home had made a mark on them all.

As they exited the bedroom, Harry cast a mournful little look towards the fourth bedroom. His heart picked up in his chest, and he shot down the emotion. They had to go.

Mrs. Weasley was shouting for them as they stomped down the stairs. As the trio joined the crowd of students next to the couches, the woman offered everyone a happy little grin. Then, she promptly led them all off to general meeting room, where a fireplace had been created.

Harry and Ron dropped their baggage off to the side, where everyone else's luggage had been placed. Hermione still had a death grip on her beaded bag, and Harry supposed that she would never give it up. He was thankful for that, truly.

Assuming that their stuff would be charmed to meet them later, Harry and Ron meshed into the gaggle of their friends. Mrs. Weasley stood before them, as if she were herding them together.

"We've got an International Floo set up for the moment," the plump woman told them, bustling about a pot of Floo Powder. "We're all expected in La Ruelle de Fusion very soon."

"The Melting Road?" Parvati asked, furrowing her brows.

Everybody puzzled over the translation for a few moments, but were soon distracted by Mrs. Weasley passing around the bowl. Then, without further ado, the woman stepped into the crackling fireplace, throwing down her handful of powder. "La Ruelle de Fusion!"

She was gone in a flash. The rest of the students filed into line, with Harry taking up the end. Before he went, he was reminded of his own expeditions into Knockturn Alley the first time that he utilized Floo Powder.

Ever-determined to get it correct, he stepped defiantly into the fireplace, gripping at the dust. He took a deep breath, and, clearing his thoughts, let the powder drop into the ground.

"La Ruelle de Fusion!"


	9. The Melting Road

**Author's Note:** I own nothing, except for a few charms and really silly jokes. But those jokes aren't here. Just the charms.

* * *

The Melting Road

 _ **August 28, 1998**_

"La Ruelle de Fusion was created a few years after Diagon Alley was opened. After realizing that an Unplottable location served best as the location for wizarding stores, most of Europe clambered to create their own little pockets of retail." - _Eric Dolinge, "The Life and Times of Wizarding Culture"_

* * *

Harry tumbled out of the fireplace gracelessly, looking around. Soot clung to his shirt, his eyelashes, and his face. He shifted onto his left foot, shaking dust and dirt off of his opposite leg. It landed onto light, evenly paved stone.

This was definitely not their Farmhouse.

In fact, the entirety of La Ruelle de Fusion appeared to be perfectly clean. The roads were free from litter and grass, and the buildings were a mixture of pale brick and marble. Lanterns were propped up on the windowsills, not yet lit. A few people littered the immediate area, which was made up of fourteen different fireplaces. Each one was equipped with a pouch of Floo Powder and rugs.

His lack of elegance stuck out like a sore thumb here.

He was almost terrified to see what the rest of the area looked like. If this 'Melting Road' was already so beautiful at its entrance, what else would there be?

And this was most definitely the entrance. Like Diagon, it started at a wall, which Harry supposed opened up to those with magical descent. Here there was a sharp turnoff that allowed the one entering to a few seconds unseen.

It gave the travelers a few moments to readjust. Mrs. Weasley spearheaded the group, corralling them all in a tight knit group. Harry took a few steps to join the others, still wiping dirt from his clothes and glasses.

"Well, Madame Maxime will be here soon. We're supposed to go to the Foreign Program first, then to Gringotts Français to check on our money. Then you'll be allowed to split for a bit to buy your school books," she explained. Looking over them in a motherly fashion, she patted at the nearest person's arm (Neville's), and led them further down the alleyway.

Harry felt a sense of anxiety entering back into a public space. He wasn't quite sure how to treat the people of Magical France; he didn't know how they felt about him. He could always ask Hermione, but he wasn't sure she would know either.

He leaned closer to Ron. "What do you reckon these people think of us?"

"Who knows?" his friend responded, peering up at the large buildings. "They're French."

Both of them cracked a little smile, then continued to look around. What was inside? What would the difference be? Already, it seemed bigger than Diagon. But that could always mean that more people were crammed inside.

The alley broke out into wide, Parisian boulevards. A small circle made up the main area, the focal point being a large fountain. Benches surrounded it, as well as little carts. A few streets branched off, wheel-like, looking inviting.

Street signs were dotted around the area, somehow not detracting from the view. People milled in and out of the shops, arms loaded with bags. Nobody paid them that much mind, despite the fact that the large group seemed out of place.

The warm scent of coffee and pastries filled the air, wafting from a nearby patisserie. Harry's stomach growled, and he reminded himself to grab something to eat before they went off to Beauxbatons.

They all stared around, filled with a strange type of hunger. It was like they were first years again, experiencing magic for the first time.

"Have you really not been here before?" Parvati asked, stepping besides Harry and Ron.

Harry gave her a confused look. "No. Have you?"

"Yes," Parvati said. She gestured towards her twin, who was talking animatedly with Hermione. "Padma and I come here often in the summer. Our grandparents moved to France when we were little."

Ron furrowed his brows. "So, you know exactly where we're supposed to be going?"

The girl nodded.

"Then why didn't you tell my mum that? That way we aren't just standing over here looking like idiots!"

Parvati laughed, toying with the butterfly clip in her hair. "Well, Madame Maxime is here, anyway. It really didn't matter."

Her dark arm fell back to her side, and she moved easily away from them, rejoining Hermione and Padma. Harry overheard a glimpse of their conversation ("They have an amusement park here?") just as he turned to notice the half-giantess stride towards them.

Everyone trailed off, standing at attention. Mrs. Weasley beamed, stepping forward to extend her hand. Madame Maxime took Mrs. Weasley's hand in her own massive one, shaking it hesitantly. Then, in her own custom, she kissed the plump woman on both cheeks.

"Madame Maxime, a pleasure," Mrs. Weasley said, withdrawing. Her eyes looked around, uncertain.

The tall woman smiled kindly. Although the students hadn't seen her in years, it was like she had never changed. Her face was the same, olive and smooth, if not for a few more wrinkles. Her hair was pulled back in a severe twist, and her face pulled tight into a smile. "Ah, ze pupils! And Molly. Eet iz so nice to see you again."

"We really appreciate all that you're doing for us, Madame Maxime. The children are forever grateful, as is our new Ministry."

"Eet is all I can do, to 'elp," she said kindly. "Please, call me Olympe. I am sure zat we will be 'earing much from each other."

She nodded regally after speaking, as if she had decided that her words were a solid decision. The way that she commanded the group was amazing. Harry was in awe. Then, with that done, she gestured for the group to follow her.

Madame Maxime led them down the main road, walking around the fountain. A few people turned their head towards this, not making eye contact. Apparently, tourists weren't worth a look, but the Headmistress of Beauxbatons was. Well, Harry couldn't blame them that.

They paused at a nondescript shop a few paces into the new road. Harry craned his neck while they milled about the entrance, looking to find an end to the street. He couldn't see one, even as they entered the embassy.

They were met immediately by a pair of witches who seemed to be in a rush. Madame Maxime greeted them customarily, then swept herself to the side, putting the British students on display center stage.

The women were a mismatched pair. One was tall and bony, bird-like in appearance. Her nose was a large beak that looked almost eager to press itself into other people's business. Dark hair was piled high on dark skin, and her eyes were light and eager. Her companion held an opposing stature. She was short and muscular, with hair trimmed short. Her face was more scrunched together, and sterner. A spray of freckles twinkled across her nose.

They both regarded the group with narrowed eyes, looking down their noses. The taller one spoke first, aiming her words at them all without picking anyone out. "We are going to need your wands for documentation," she said in softly accented English. "And don't attempt to clean them off, first. We've no time for that."

Despite the fact that she hadn't aimed the comment at anyone, Harry, Ron, and Neville froze. They had been attempting to wipe the grime off of their wands.

"Step over here, please," the shorter one said in clipped tones. She had a distinctly American accent, which surprised the group. They immediately followed her request, moving further into the shop- which was now quite visibly an office.

A gold, scale-like structure awaited them to their left. Harry recognized it as a similar instrument to the one in the Ministry at home, except this one seemed to be much larger. Another wand was already residing on the one dish, and was retrieved by the taller woman.

"Place your wand on the dish alone, then step over here."

She pressed down her powder blue robes, then stepped to the side. There was now space for them to proceed, so Padma stepped forward. He placed his wand onto the scale, then moved sideways to where he was instructed. The large witch ran her gold wand sideways over him, then took up the short little paper that was dispensed at the bottom of the scales.

She read out the information in a bland tone. "14 inches. Dogwood. Dragon heartstring. Phoenix feather core. Correct?"

"Yes," Padma replied, stoic. The other woman promptly picked the slip out of her coworker's hand, asked Padma to grab her wand, and then slipped behind a small desk. There, she retrieved a pile of paperwork, and began to speak. Her words were muffled by the sudden movement of the rest of the line, who were ushered forward by the French witch.

Madame Maxime joined Harry and Ron at the back of the line, smiling kindly. "Ah, 'arry Potter. We are excited to 'ave you at Beauxbatons for this year."

The three took a step forward, and Harry nodded his head. "We're excited to be there." No, they weren't. But he wasn't about to tell that to Madame Maxime. "It was an unexpected plan."

"Yes, so I've 'eard."

Another step. Neville seemed to be having a sort of problem with the machine, and their new Headmistress was still standing next to them. What did she want? "Yes?"

Even though Hermione was a few people ahead of him, she must have heard his tone. She turned her head, fixated him with a stern look, then moved forward in line.

Madame Maxime frowned. "I am welcoming you into my 'ome with open arms, Mr. Potter. Please understand that we hold our students to higher standards than 'Ogwarts."

Harry resisted the urge to snort. Was she only worried about appearances? "Yes, we know," he replied. Just like the French. Why couldn't they focus on the problem of Voldemort?

"I would like you to keep an eye on your friends, then," she warned him. "Zey all follow you, and I do not want them to take away from ze studies at Beauxbatons. My students work very 'ard, and you would distract them."

"You were the ones who demanded we attend, Madame Maxime."

She didn't look offended by this comment. She simply took his arm, leading him forward into line. There was only one person in front of Harry now, so he got ready to present his wand.

The headmistress looked at him seriously. "Yes, because you are students without a place to go. You 'ave lost the war, 'arry. You must remember zat. Focus on your studies, focus on getting smarter. There is no room for your army at my school."

"Excuse me?"

"You 'eard me just well, young man. You must disband your little group if you intend on them doing well in school."

Harry frowned, but he could say nothing else. He was now at the scales, and was required to present his wand to the witch in charge. He could feel Madame Maxime behind him, staring intently.

"Wand, please," the tall witch said. He dropped his wand onto the scale, watching as it bobbed. Harry watched it work, impressed as a little piece of paper printed out. She read it out immediately, unsurprised. "Eleven inches. Holly. Phoenix feather core."

"Yes," Harry replied, as bored as Fred had been.

The woman sniffed, scanning him with the gold wand. "You should clean your wand, Mister Potter," she said. As she found him passing her inspection, she gestured for him to move on to the paperwork, where the short American woman was.

"Fill this out."

As she was completely to the point, Harry found that he had no questions about what he was supposed to do. No, that was wrong. He knew exactly what he should do, but he was unsure on why. He glanced over the papers, finding them to be a few binding documents. Two were saying that he intended to stay for Beauxbatons. One was claiming that he was not in league with Voldemort. Another said that he was not planning on leaving the country without informing the French Ministry.

Harry hoped that the Voldemort form had a few jinxes on it. Otherwise, it seemed useless.

She made no comment as he finished scribbling his signature onto the papers, though it seemed that she disapproved of the way that he held his quill. She occasionally made a nervous little noise when he gripped it too tightly, which caused him to scowl.

"Thank you."

Harry didn't respond, and moved to stand next to Ron. "They're awfully chatty here, aren't they?" he asked.

Ron nodded his agreement, but didn't say anything. Harry didn't expect him too. He was used to being forced away from places he felt were home- he had already resigned himself to never seeing Hogwarts again. But Ron hadn't been given that time. It had to have been the first time he was thinking about how he'd never see the Burrow again.

Harry refused to say anything in regards to the unfairness of the situation, as he doubted his friend needed that. He wasn't sure what Ron needed yet. Comfort, yes. But likely not from him.

It would come out all angry, anyways.

So, Harry did what he could only assume would help. "When we're done here, would you like to find the Quidditch store?"

His friend brightened monumentally. Ron turned to comment on this, but they were silenced by Madame Maxime standing once more in front of the group. She looked down at them with a strange look, one that they couldn't quite decipher. Everyone fell silent, even the chattering Hermione.

She spoke a few seconds after, unconcerned. "Certain individuals of La Ruelle de Fusion do not speak English. Would you be willing to be placed with a translating charm? Otherwise, you will find yourself in need of me."

Padma Patil raised her hand. When the half-giantess nodded at her, she spoke rapidly. "My sister and I already know French, Madame. Is it alright if we abstain?"

"Yes. Come to me eef you feel it is not enough," the woman said seriously. "Now, this charm will offer subtitles beneath your speech, as well as those of a differing language, only seen by those under the charm. For now, it will allow you to understand those running the shops. While at my Beauxbatons, we have a charm over the school that allows all languages to be understood. Of course, I expect you all to learn basic French phrases soon."

Nobody argued with her on that. She smiled, and continued, "Now, please group together more so that I may cast it."

Harry, having previously been on the wrong end of a Lockhart charm, was hesitant to do so. But Ron pulled him inwards, gripping onto his forearm in a reassuring manner. Hermione found her way back to the two of them, offering a little smile.

Madame Maxime lifted her wand, looking at them with narrowed eyes. Then, she waved her arms, saying something in rapid French. Harry wished that he had caught it before it worked; he was wondering what she had said.

"Very well," she said, and Harry found that he wasn't sure which language she was speaking in. "I will go off to Gringotts to establish that you are all here and accounted for. If anyone wishes to accompany me and Molly, they may."

Mrs. Weasley looked honored to have been signaled out, and gave the rest of the group a little nod. "I'm sure most of them need to come. I'm not sure who has pocket money on them."

Hermione perked up at that. She had, apparently, withdrew a large amount of money from Gringotts before arriving at the Burrow. Harry and Ron had no money, and knew that they should go with Mrs. Weasley. But Hermione seemed to want to go off, and they were at an impasse.

"Hermione, we have to buy our books and things. And the Quidditch store!" Ron was insisting. Harry nodded in agreement.

The girl frowned. "Well, I wanted a chance to explore without people breathing down our necks! And I wanted to check out the bookstore before Padma and Luna."

"Feeling competitive?" Harry asked. He ignored her wishes and pulled her after the group, which was now trailing back out of the shop and further away from the heart of the alley.

Hermione shot him a look. "Well…We do have exams tomorrow, and the Patil twins seem to have a better grasp at Beauxbatons then we do. And French, too."

"Don't you know how to speak it?" Ron asked carefully. He looked towards the group in front of them, making sure that they were still following along the path.

She frowned. "Well, I have a rudimentary grasp of the language. I can say quite a few things, but not enough that I was willing to muddle my way through. I fully intend on grasping it once we've taken our exams."

"That's more than the rest of us, you know," Harry said.

"It still isn't perfect, Harry. I wouldn't want to embarrass myself in front of everyone."

They didn't grace that with a comment, instead turning to look at the scenery around them. Harry knew that Hermione had a better grasp on it than she had initially said, but he wasn't going to fault her for electing to have the charm instead. That way, she could keep thinking however she wanted.

Although he wasn't quite sure he understood how the charm worked. He would have to ask Hermione to clarify it later. Now, however, he was more focused on looking around at the foreign Gringotts with a sense of awe.

It wasn't as noble as its predecessor, but it held itself in high esteem. Thick marble slabs made up its walls, columns upon columns lining them. There wasn't a scratch of dirt in sight. It looked too clean, too large, and too real.

Harry remembered Hagrid explaining the original Gringotts, and was apprehensive as they approached this new version. Wasn't it supposed to be smaller here? Didn't England have the only Gringotts?

Sensing his confusion, Hermione paused, looking at the building seriously. "They established it very recently, about a few months ago. Apparently, those outside of Britain wanted a way to ensure that their gold was safe, if something happened. The goblins go back and forth wherever they please, of course. So a lot of the vaults are easily transferred. I think Madame Maxime informed them of who needed a transfer already, but I'm not sure."

She was right, and no sooner had they entered Gringotts had they stepped right back out, their pockets full of coins and promises. Harry was slightly disappointed with the French Gringotts; it was an exact replica on the inside. It was probably easier to duplicate everything than to refurbish, but he had been expecting something grander.

At least the rest of the alley didn't disappoint. Madame Maxime had presented them with lists a few days prior, and they were already well-prepared for what they needed to buy. The stores were very clearly marked, and Harry and Ron had no problem locating the Quidditch supply store, "Super Sports Fournisseurs".

They were right outside of the step when Hermione pulled them around towards the book store, which proclaimed, in loopy handwriting, a final sale. She was over the moon, and led them over once it was spotted. "Oh, please!"

"Oh, alright," Harry said in exasperation. Ron, too, sighed, and they proceeded in after her, hearing the door jingle happily.

A short little man greeted them, speaking rapidly. Directly beneath him, Harry noticed a little glimmer, and he assumed that this was his clue that the charm was working. Then, as if they were always there, little words appeared beneath the man's head: "Hello, hello, hello! You are new Beauxbatons students, yes? How wonderful! There have not been English students in the school for quite some time now. All of the books are here. Just ask if you need anything!"

Harry felt instantly warmed by his happy demeanor, and cracked a little grin. Hermione said something in return, a question about the location of a certain book. Ron, not at all excited about book shopping, simply pulled out their list.

He showed it to Harry. "I think we should split up. Cover more ground that way. Sound good?"

"It couldn't hurt. I may grab something extra if I see something I want."

Ron tore their supply list in half, handing Harry the lower section. He glanced over it, then back towards his friend, who had wandered off near Hermione.

He rolled his eyes. How much longer did they think they were going to hide this from everyone? Or themselves, too. He wasn't even really sure that they had talked about how they felt. Harry resisted the urge to snort, realizing he was going to have to talk to them about this dilemma.

Later, he told himself. Not now.

The books on the shelves were organized by subject, and pretty easy to locate. He found the Potions sections with little problem, and found the one they needed without a problem. Hopefully, their new Potions Master would be much better than Snape, and not very Slughorn-like. A very demanding thought, he knew.

Their other classes were odd, and he found himself staring vacantly at a book titled 'L'Étude des Pensées' for quite a few minutes. He recognized that this was a very straightforward name- he could even read it in English.

But what course was this for? Harry ran through them all in his mind, despite being unsure as to what he was even going to be taking. Medical studies? No, not that one. It wasn't their typical core classes: Defense, History of Magic, Charms. It didn't look like anything for their Spell-Creating Course.

He supposed it had to be for their course on Magic of the Mind. He had thought that the name was rather strange, but he supposed that it lumped together a few different things: Divination, Hypnosis, and Occlumency.

At least, that was similar to what Hermione had explained.

Harry also knew that there were a few other courses that the school offered, each as strange as the next. Ron had mentioned that it was more of a hybrid school than Hogwarts was, offering things such as Art and Music.

Hogwarts did have the latter option, as Harry had stated defensively. Who cared if it was just a club?

Harry scooped up the strange book, and found his way to the rest of them. He and Ron met up fifteen minutes later, both with stacks and stacks of texts. They exchanged their doubles then made their way up towards the counter.

"Are you two finished?" the man asked. The words translated themselves rapidly, the script forming beneath his chin. "Do you need anything else? Parchment, quills?"

Neither boy spoke for a moment. They knew that the spell wouldn't work the other way, but the man had known that they were English. Did he know their language?

Harry dropped his books down onto the counter. "Could we get some parchment and quills? And a bit of ink. The books are good though."

The man looked confused, as if he couldn't quite understand them. Hermione was still rummaging around the shop, so they couldn't rely on her for help.

Ron lifted his arms, and began to pantomime. "Quills," he said, dragging his wrists through the air. "And ink!"

"Oh, you do need them, yeah?" the owner repeated, a smile of familiarity darting to his lips. With these upturned corners, he bent down to retrieve what they requested. He pulled out the objects, then placed them on top of the books. "You have a charm on, and it does not work the other way. The Madame's work?"

Both boys nodded, and they didn't say anything more on the subject. The man smiled warmly at them, and then proceeded to inform them of the price.

Dropping a few galleons onto the counter, Harry regarded the man curiously. He had a few more questions to ask, but the language barrier was a little thick. He hoped that they didn't have this problem in the future. Neither Fleur nor some of the Beauxbatons students seemed to have this issue at Hogwarts. Or did they?

He knew that only a select group had been chosen to attend. What if that was simply the group that spoke English fluently?

That made more sense, yes.

He furrowed his brows, resigning himself to simply not having the conversation. They'd have to find somebody else to talk to then, and that preferably wasn't Madame Maxime. He wanted to talk things over with an unbiased source.

Hermione joined them a moment later, breathless and happy. She began talking to the man in shaky French, dropping her books next to Ron and Harry's. "Thank you for your help, Monsieur! I really adore your shop."

He said something in return that neither Harry nor Ron caught. The two of them had shifted towards each other, preoccupied with shoving their books into their arms. He knew Hermione would have her beaded bag with her, so they wouldn't need to carry their books throughout the entire alley.

While Hermione continued to chatter along with the owner, Harry and Ron had their own conversation.

"When are you going to tell her?" Harry asked, gesturing his head slightly.

Ron frowned. "Tell her what?" he asked, adopting an innocent look. It looked off on the wizard, as if he had pulled on clothing too tight for his frame.

"You know what I mean, of course."

"I really don't," Ron insisted.

Harry let out a little chuckle, shaking his dark locks. "Ron. I'm your best mate! I know exactly what you're thinking. Don't lie to me about this."

"Harry, really."

"Ron, _really._ "

The freckled boy frowned. "Alright. I don't know when I'm going to tell her. I don't know if I even want to tell her. How do I know that she feels the same?"

"She hasn't shut you down yet, has she?" Harry asked. "I'm sure she would have if –"

He broke off rapidly, as Hermione had finished her conversation. She looked at them with bright, beaming eyes. "What are you two up to?"

"Oh, nothing," Ron said brightly. He clapped his hand on her shoulder, removing the beaded bag from her arms. He opened it, dropping his books inside. Harry did the same, offering Hermione a smile.

"Can we go to the Quidditch store, then?"


	10. A Professorial Problem

**Author's Note:** Wow, I've almost caught up with my updates! If you're a new reader, hey! An old reader? What's up? Hope you like the new format. I've been trying to finish up this story (by writing a chapter a day), because I have so many ideas and want to edit it and get it out there. _Please_ let me know if you want to beta-read this. Also, for you shippers out there- this is a Romione story, but I do have a Tomione and a Dramione in the works, and will have a Theo/Luna story finished at some point. I basically ship everything, but this story _is_ Romione, so if you don't like that, I would suggest that you stop reading it. Romance doesn't play that big of a part in this, by the way.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing but a few oddly placed characters.

* * *

A Professorial Problem

 _ **August 28, 1998**_

"They met resistance at Beauxbatons in quite a few forms." - _Jennifer Travers, "Magic Through the Ages"_

* * *

They spent almost an hour inside the Quidditch shop, with Harry and Ron thoroughly entertained. Hermione remained out of loyalty to the two of them, but merely responded with noncommital remarks whenever they asked for her opinion. They were well aware that they were boring her, but neither were really willing to go back towards the boredom of school shopping.

Eventually, she managed to lure them out with mentions of the patisserie down the block. Of course, the boys had already made a dent in their purchasing money. Harry left with a new pair of gloves, while Ron found a new helmet and a new set of shoulder pads.

Hermione left with a bit of a headache.

While they traipsed the winding road, she comically linked arms with the two of them, letting out a low sigh. Harry cracked a smile; it was almost like they had broken her.

"Tired?" he asked her, tilting his head.

Hermione let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "A little bit."

"You know," Ron said, cracking a smile. "This is exactly how we feel when you drag us book shopping."

The witch shook her head, wild curls attacking their cheeks. Insistence pricked at her voice. "That's a lie. You two don't particularly mind reading! You just don't enjoy doing the work that Hogwarts asks of us."

Harry, noticing that she managed to maintain the present tense, looked towards the sky. While Hermione floundered to fix her mistake, he feigned interest in one of the rafters, shouldering the Quidditch bag on his arms.

"Asked. You know, I'm still peeved off at Madame Maxime for not informing us of the exams that we're about to take," she clarified, crinkling her nose. Without saying anything else, she extended an arm to grab both Harry and Ron's shopping bags, once more placing the items inside her beaded bag. "Especially since we haven't had a lot of time to study."

She seemed much calmer as she said this, unlike the meltdown that had occurred earlier. She must have recognized that it wasn't entirely worth it, or she recognized the fact that they were only a few days away from learning again.

Neither Harry nor Ron thought it wise to mention it, though Ron did look like he wanted to say something. Harry sent him a warning glance, and Ron quickly sprung a new subject on them, smiling.

"Well, we have more than enough time for lunch, don't we?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but a small smile was present on her lips. She wasn't nearly as annoyed as she appeared, and quite happily steered them down a small little alley. "Most certainly. Parvati mentioned that there was a good café over here, and I think I saw it in a guidebook once."

"A guidebook for the magical world?" Harry asked.

Ron smiled. "Oh, yeah. Mum has a few of those. She said she had always wanted to travel, but she got so wrapped up in everything."

"Having Bill?" Hermione asked, craning her head to look at the signs as they passed.

"Well, yeah. And the war."

An uneasy silence fell between them, and rested for a few moments. They all took the time to glance around at the signs, attempting to locate the café that had been recommended to them. The space between the shops had gotten larger, as if taking up more space. There were less people wandering around this part of the street, and they felt like they could breathe.

Ron found it first, his stomach, as usual, leading. As he was the last person to speak, he found his voice easily, cracking a smile.

"Ah, there we are. _Le Chat et La Souris_. The Cat and the Mouse? That's a strange name for a shop," he said, crinkling his nose.

Harry nodded in agreement. "I wonder if there's a reason for that. Some backstory?"

"Probably," Ron said. "Can't see why else they would name it that."

Hermione tilted her head in thought. "Maybe they named it after the first thing that they saw? Or else they were being creative. It sounds pretty decent, in my opinion."

"It sounds pretty mental," Ron insisted, shrugging. They peered up towards the shop, staring at the sign. It loomed over them in a friendly enough way, the sign wiggling in the breeze. Light script was woven within, waving a greeting in a golden tint.

A warm scent was dancing around them; bread, fresh out of the oven. Chocolate pastries lined a brilliant window, strawberry tarts marching alongside. Cream puffs, too, were present, placed in perfect little rows. There was something almost sentimental about the way that the food was placed, despite the fact that Harry couldn't place anywhere he would have seen anything like it. It wasn't like his aunt and uncle would ever bring him to a place like this.

They were practically salivating as they looked at the sweets, stomachs rumbling simultaneously. As the trio stood together, they looked eagerly towards the door, ready to enter.

Hermione reached for the doorknob, determined to enter immediately. Although Ron was more notable for his hunger, the young witch seemed ravenous. She held the door open for her friends, and both Harry and Ron stepped behind her.

The smells were even more delicious when they stepped inside, if that was possible. From the threshold, they could see a bunch of mismatched tables and chairs, a type of shabby chic that was paired with a woven tapestry in the corner.

Harry moved ahead, selecting one in the far corner of the room. They could protect themselves easily there. As they slid into the open seats, he looked towards the decor and the other patrons, wanting to take everything in.

It was cluttered, but tastefully so. He wasn't sure that such a thing was possible, but it reminded him in the best way of the Burrow. It was homey and warm, just the right type of atmosphere for artistic development.

There were only a few small groups who were settled along the uneven tables. A family speaking in low tones occupied one in the front of the shop, their plates weighed down with croissants, bagels, and cheeses. A couple was lurking in the back, and, near the three friends, rested two wizards having a heated debate.

Before long, a thin young waiter arrived at their table. "Can I get you anything?" he asked in French, and as the words translated beneath him, Harry ducked his head.

How were they going to order?

Hermione took the lead, inclining her head. Harry and Ron quickly muttered their orders to her, and she translated them rapidly, her voice rising and falling easily. They were briefly envious of her fluidity, though both boys knew that they weren't going to learn French that easily.

It was probably going to take a while. Granted, most of the students probably knew English, but he doubted that all of the teachers were going to be willing to speak a separate language for the benefit of a few students.

Harry sighed, smiling as the server presented them with a few glasses of water. He sipped at his, then turned to look about the café again. The two men near them were arguing in rapid French, so quickly that he wasn't able to see the translation beneath them.

"I wonder what that's about," Ron said, his lips pulling into a frown. All three of them were suspicious, due to the unfamiliar atmosphere and their inability to speak the language.

Hermione shrugged. "Probably not something we need to be concerned with. Though they are pretty angry."

"As long as they don't start cursing each other, I don't care," Harry added. He swirled the straw between his fingers, looking curiously over at the pair.

"Do you really think they'd go at it, right here?" Ron asked. Although the words were aimed towards his friends, they were spoken loud enough to garner the attention of the two men at the other table. Both turned their heads sharply at the group, frowning.

They knew that shame was written on their faces; blushes placed on the trio in different places. Ron's ears were red, Hermione's cheeks had darkened, and Harry's face had paled considerably.

The two angry men stared at them, both a picture of rage. The one that had been speaking before this moment was dark and angular, while his friend shared the skin tone of creamed coffee. The former regarded them with far more emotion than the latter.

"You are the 'Ogwarts students?" he asked, heat present in his every word.

Harry answered for them, his voice rough. "Yeah."

Clearly, that response did not go over as well as one would have hoped. The man looked at them with narrowed eyes and began speaking so quickly that they were unable to understand what was being said. The charm was working too quickly; only a few words were being translated.

Finally, he slowed down, switching back to English. "I am a Professor at Beauxbatons, and you would do well to show more respect."

Before they could ask what subject he taught, the man very quickly stood up, storming out of the café. His companion trailed behind, shaking his head. Harry was unsure if this was in regards to the scene that just occurred, or towards he and his friends. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know either.

The trio stared at each other for a few seconds, uncomfortable and attempting to digest what had just happened. It was all so quick; one moment, they were speaking casually about the discussion nearby, and the next second they were being yelled at.

Or talked to quickly.

They weren't really sure what had just happened.

"I'm not sure this bodes well for our studies," Hermione groaned. "We haven't even started classes and one of the teachers hates us!"

Ron frowned. "Well, we don't really _know_ that. We couldn't really tell what he was saying!"

"Do you reckon he did that on purpose?" Harry asked, his hands wrapping around his glass of water. It was always a possibility. He hoped that this teacher wouldn't turn out to be Snape-like; they had just gotten away from the original.

Hermione couldn't quite say, nor did she have time to. The waiter had just come back to their table, dropping down a few platters of croissants and fruit. A tartlet was placed in front of Harry and Hermione, while Ron received a plate of eggs like he requested. They all exclaimed their thanks and tucked in, waiting a few moments before speaking again.

"It could have been on purpose," Hermione said, narrowing her eyes slightly. She didn't want to completely label the man as villain, but she was having a problem figuring out the reasoning. "Or he could just speak quickly. Either way, I feel like we should tread lightly. And work on our French for when we aren't in school."

Ron and Harry nodded.

Then, Harry asked, "How long will that take?" through a mouthful of pastry. The words sounded garbled, but both Hermione and Ron understood what he meant.

"Erm, four to six months if you practice ten hours of the day. Probably more, knowing you two."

Although Ron parted his lips to argue, he knew that Hermione was ultimately right. They weren't that good at the whole 'studying' thing, and would likely fall behind. "Well, we'll be completely immersed in the language and culture. Does that count for something?"

"Not really. I still feel like it'll take most of the school term for you two to get a grasp of it fluently. Besides, didn't you pay attention? Beauxbatons has a Translating Charm on it."

"What if we weren't quite fluent?" Harry asked curiously. "Like, we could understand, but we didn't have all of the words?"

Hermione took a bite of her tart, wrinkling her brows. "That's not necessarily the correct way to go about something like this."

"Well, we don't have as much time as you think," Harry told her. "We'll crack the barrier before then. We'll be able to get back home pretty soon, and then knowing French may not be that important."

"I'm not saying that we have more time," she said seriously. "I'm just saying that fluency in a language takes a lot of time. Some people spend years learning how to speak English alone."

The all paused for a moment, each lost to their own thoughts. Harry himself was lost in possibility, wondering about the time they would spend at Beauxbatons. It couldn't be that long. They wouldn't really have to spend the entire term there, would they?

He didn't think he could, quite honestly. He had been set on looking for Horcruxes. And how were they going to do that at Beauxbatons? Surely they had a Restricted Section, which meant that they weren't going to be able to research as extensively as they wanted.

Hermione would have different answers than he was coming up with. She would probably assert a diagram so that they could figure out everything about the Horcruxes, and then assign them separate little things to look up.

Ron would be tactical, too. He would think of everything as a chess match, and set up the board perfectly. Harry was weak at chess, so he wasn't sure of the perfect plot, but knew Ron would put all he could into making their plan the best.

And what would he do, when they were trapped at a school? What could he do? He could try to lead, like everyone wanted him to. Or he could fade into the background, and let the adults take up the fight. He didn't want to be great. He didn't want to be the Boy-Who-Lived.

He just wanted to be Harry.

"I suppose we should start trying to learn the language then," Ron said. "You know, when we get to the school."

"Even though she said there would be a translating charm over the entirety of the school?" Harry asked.

"Well, yeah. That," Hermione began, narrowing her eyes. "It shouldn't be a reason to give up. We should work on our French anyway."

Ron frowned. "Why is it like that, though?"

"I don't think the school is primarily French. I read somewhere that, although it caters specifically towards France and Belgium, there are quite a few students from Luxembourg, the Netherlands, Portugal, Spain, and Switzerland," Hermione explained. "Though _Hogwarts: A History_ likes to primarily code the school as French, and the books about Beauxbatons are relatively vague."

"I almost wish that we talked to more of the Beauxbatons students when they were at Hogwarts," Harry lamented. "I feel like we don't really know that much about their school."

"I think they like it that way," Ron said seriously.

Hermione agreed. "Remember how Karkaroff reacted when Viktor simply mentioned where Durmstrang was? He didn't even go into specifics and he was getting lectured. And I read three books about the school, and we still only have a bit of knowledge! We need to talk to the people who _go_ there. It's getting frustrating."

"Did anyone actually talk to any of the Beauxbatons students?" Harry asked.

Ron shrugged his shoulders, scooping up some more eggs. He looked pensive as he swallowed, then his eyes widened. "Oh, yeah. Ginny talked to a few of them. I think she still writes them from time to time!"

"And you didn't think to say anything?" Hermione exclaimed.

"Well, no. I didn't think it was important."

Harry rolled his eyes at his friend, and internally decided that they ought to speak to Ginny and see what she knew. Of course, they didn't entirely know where any of their friends were at the moment.

Hermione was able to help with that. "Well, we'll just have to ask her. And Luna, too. For all we know they had quite a few international friends. I'm sure it won't be difficult to find them. We'll just have to find the oddest store, and we'll have Luna."

"I think they said earlier that they were going to hang around near the fountain. Something about missing being in the sun," Ron added. When his friends looked at him in confusion, he frowned again. "What?"

Harry smiled at his friend. "Well, you're actually being really helpful at the moment."

"I think I should be offended by that."

Hermione let out a little laugh, and dipped into her pockets to place a few coins onto the table. The majority of their meal was gone, and they now had something more important to do. "No, not offended. Just mildly concerned."

With that, they stood from their table and exited the little café, leaving behind the soft smells of pastry and happiness. Their descent back down towards the main road wasn't very eventful. As before, they passed only a few people, and none of those individuals made eye contact (or seemed to care).

Perhaps they were passing as normal students. At least, that was what Harry was willing to assume, even as they stepped back into the warm glow of the main sector, taking a casual step towards the fountain.

Just as they had predicted, Ginny and Luna were nestled next to one another, laughing. Both girls seemed freer than they had in a week, as if just being out in the sun had brought out the brighter aspects of their personalities.

Luna smiled at them as they approached, and mentioned something to Ginny. The fiery redhead let out a little laugh, and gestured for the trio to sit down with them.

"Done shopping?" Ginny asked, cracking a grin.

Ron nodded to his sister, vaguely nodding towards Hermione's beaded bag. "Yeah. Had a nice place to stow all of our stuff, too. Where's your loot?"

"Mum has it. She and Madame Maxime were off debating the peculiarities of traveling with baggage."

Luna lifted her chin slightly, adding, "And it was getting to be pretty heavy as well."

"Did you stop by the Quidditch store?" Harry asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Of course!" Ginny exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "We spent a great deal there, actually. Did we miss you lot?"

"Hermione had us looking at books," Ron complained. "But we did get to spend an hour in there. I got some new shoulder pads."

"How'd you afford that?" she asked him, narrowing her eyes.

"Loan from Fred and George. You know, they're still making a good amount of money from the shop?" Ron mentioned. "I just had to bargain for it."

Ginny laughed. "Very snake-like, Ron."

Hermione and Harry smiled, and the former finally got her own words in. "And I didn't have you looking at books for _that_ long. You're being dramatic."

"Hermione," Harry said seriously. "It was way too long for the two of us."

She sniffed loudly, then turned abruptly towards the two younger girls. "We had a question for you two, actually."

Of course she went straight to the point. Harry thought that she could have circumvented the matter a little bit better, but he thought that Hermione would have found the advice insulting.

At her statement, Ginny and Luna both stared blankly. They clearly weren't expecting an ambush, though he couldn't tell what they were wondering. They simply regarded Hermione with a bit of wariness, as expected. Of course, Hermione immediately bowed out of the statement, as if she wanted Harry to ask them.

"Right. Did you two hang around with any of the international students in your third year?" he asked, casting a dark look towards Hermione. She was the one who had started the question- why couldn't she finish it?

Neither of the younger students noticed the look that he gave Hermione, and were immediately willing to respond.

"Oh, yeah, of course. We weren't caught up in the winning of the Tournament, so we actually got to meet a few people," Ginny said. "I still talk to a few of the Beauxbatons girls. Marian and Brigitte are definitely going to be excited to see me. We've been trying to meet up again for ages, but we have to stick to writing letters."

Luna, too, had met a few Beauxbatons students. "I was friends with a boy named Florian, though I met a few others. He was just the nicest one."

"What did they tell you about the school?" Ron asked.

Both girls were silent for a moment, then widened their eyes at the exact same time.

"Well, not much," Ginny admitted. "They were pretty secretive about everything. I know that they took similar classes, and that they had a House system as well. But I don't think we really talked about their school specifically."

"I don't recall Florian ever mentioning something specific about Beauxbatons," Luna added.

This left the group feeling vaguely uneasy. They basically had a small grasp of the school that they were about to attend; they knew where it was, but that was about it location-wise. They had a small idea as to who was going to be there, mainly from a fact Hermione had dropped. And they knew some of the coursework, from both Luna and Ginny's knowledge (yet to be shared) and from their list of books to purchase.

They were likely going to get lost in the castle, too, just like their first year at Hogwarts. Hopefully, they weren't going to unearth something terrible by being lost.

"How do these schools manage it?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brows. "There are so many books documenting Hogwarts from the beginning. Even the Beauxbatons books only mention the past century or so, and even then, not in much detail. They actually don't even focus on the courses."

Ginny crinkled her nose. "Didn't you read three of them?"

"They were basically thin travel books," Hermione grumbled. Harry wished that she had mentioned that earlier.

"I guess we'll have to see when we get there, then," Luna said good-naturedly, and Ron clapped a hand on her shoulder.

"A good point, Luna. A good point."

They let the conversation fall, and struck up a discussion on the finer qualities of the beauty of La Ruelle de Fusion, mentioning how they enjoyed the shops and the aesthetic. They sat like that for some time, the group, chattering happily.

Meanwhile, back at the farmhouse, there were preparations for war, a council discussing battles and possibilities. But the students were unaware of this upcoming fight for the moment, focusing mainly on their own upcoming difficulties of starting at Beauxbatons.


	11. A Grand Entrance

**Author's Note:** Okay, so there was this one guest review that commented about Tonks being pregnant, and I have a wonderful chapter coming for you pretty soon! Well, in a bit. In a couple of chapters.

* * *

A Grand Entrance

 _ **August 28, 1998**_

"Hildegard was a remarkable Seer, one who managed to interact with Muggles with little problem. She saw people as an inspiration..." _Moste Notable Witches (1897)_

* * *

Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin sat in front of the portrait of Hildegard, a shared expression on all three faces. For two hours they had been speaking, and although there was no real language barrier (Hildegard had learned the modern variances ages ago), nothing of real note had been said.

Hildegard was unwilling to risk her frame and future for a woman that she had never met. Trying to help, Lupin and Tonks kept trying to explain how important Professor McGonagall was. They talked at length about how she had impacted them, about how she was a great asset to the Order. Lupin explained his condition (Hildegard recoiled at the mention), and Tonks mentioned how she affected students at Hogwarts.

There was still nothing.

She had simply stared at them with suspicion, her serious and honest words becoming irritating. "I do not want to risk my legacy being removed for you all. I do not even know you. I did not even See you in my time alive."

"Well, who did you 'See'?" Tonks asked. Her lips were pulled into a frown, her body tense in the position she had been settled in. "Anyone important?"

The elderly portrait regarded them seriously, giving the couple a moment to study the nooks and crannies of the artistic rendering. She was a stern woman in an old nun's habit, with a beaked nose and a sharp gaze. If anything, she looked like someone that McGonagall could get along with. They were both equally devoted to their crafts, and had that type of ferocity that one could appreciate.

"I Saw visions of the Heavens," the portrait told them in a serious tone. "And I Saw the defeat of a powerful but terrible force. The stars fell from the sky into the clear ocean, and the heavens cried. A rock sat in the middle of this all, a home."

Lupin regarded this phrase with seriousness. He stretched his arms outwards, grazing Tonks' leg. After the brief touch, he curled back into himself thoughtfully. There was something in that vision- it was unclear and murky, but he supposed there was something more. But he wasn't going to think of this now.

"Hildegard," he said slowly. "We are trying to create your vision."

"You are not a star. You are not a rock."

Tonks frowned. "What am I?"

"Half of a star," the portrait responded. She shifted in her painting, uneasy on the chair provided. It was the most she had moved all day. "But you will fall as well."

Silence fell. They didn't know what to make of the sentence- no, that was wrong. They knew too well what to make of it. Tonks took a sharp breath in, and cradled her head in her hand. Remus' eyes filled with emotion, and he turned his head away to look at the witch.

He reached for her hand, and she let out a shaky breath. Their fingers curled around one another, searching for comfort.

"No, she won't," Remus said gravely. "She will not fall. And if you refuse to help, it doesn't matter. We'll find another way. We always have. We always will."

He meant that for the both of them, and he meant it deeply.

Hildegarde regarded them with a piercing gaze. "Do you mean this truthfully?"

Tonks shuddered, her lips a thin line. As the three regarded each other, she attempted to pull herself tall and brave. "Yes. We both do."

"Then I will help."

They exchanged sighs, both Lupin and Tonks, but they were very different breaths. Remus was glad to be done with this conversation, already wanting to move towards the next part of his day. He wanted to comfort his wife, to take a deep breath, and think about what was going to happen. Tonks exhaled because it was all that she could do.

"Alright," Tonks said, running a hand through her pink hair. After Hildegarde's abrupt statement, the locks had faltered, more of a mute, pastel tone. "Would you like a better visual of who you're looking for?"

Hildegarde offered a cryptic little smile. "No. I know exactly who it is you speak of."

Lupin nearly growled at that comment, but managed to refrain himself. They didn't need Hildegard to back out only moments after agreeing.

"And you know what to say to her?" he asked instead.

"I will come up with something to say. And I will not get caught," she continued, her gaze narrowing. "I am aware that I speak only the truth. Your people will come to as little harm as possible."

"Thank you," Tonks said, and Lupin echoed her statement under his breath.

The painting simply lifted her head in response, sliding out of view. They hoped that she was walking towards her other abode in Hogwarts, and not somewhere else. They weren't entirely sure how many other portraits Hildegarde had; she had managed to keep that information from them.

They were able to make sure that she had no way of accessing their opponents, though. That was their main focus.

Now, they had to find some way to contact Mrs. Longbottom. Neville's grandmother was even more difficult to locate, as they knew she rarely kept paintings in her home, and she kept up a brilliant societal standing. Trying to find a way around her committees and other commitments was proving difficult.

And now that Neville was gone, they were having even more difficulties. They would have to wait for one of the students to reach out to them before they could get any more information.

However, they had a few more hours (at least) before they were going to hear anything from them. They were likely just getting to Beauxbatons, just getting the tour, and just saying their goodbyes to Mrs. Weasley.

Right now, Lupin and Tonks had to deal with other things, like placing together the vague dream together and trying to ignore the inevitability of it coming true.

The duet picked themselves up from their seats by the portrait, limbs slung around one another. A slow tear slipped down Tonks's cheek, and Remus appeared stony besides her, although pain was clear in his eyes.

They walked together, hand in hand, out of the closed off room and towards the main portion of the home.

* * *

"This is probably the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Hermione said breathily, gazing at the Grand Hall in a mixture of awe and envy. It was as big as Hogwarts' was, but sculptures of swans and dolphins swarmed around the room, icy and beautiful.

Ron nodded his agreement, but winced at the color scheme. "I always knew you were a Ravenclaw at heart, Hermione."

Harry looked around, noticing the little trims of powder blue and white, resisting the urge to laugh. "Those aren't even the right colors, Ron."

"Oh, yeah," he responded, looking towards the décor once more. "Ah, shoot. Are we expected to wear that?"

Hermione squinted. "I think you'd look fine in those colors!" she exclaimed, shifting to look towards Ron's features. Harry noticed the little light in her eyes, and refrained from commenting outright. He'd corner her at some point.

"Oh, really?" Ron asked, a little smile growing.

Before they could make any more comments about wardrobe, Madame Maxime, who was leading the group, finally spoke. She had been allowing them a few minutes to acclimate to their new home, seeing as they had been abruptly rushed from the Rue de Fusion.

"This is the Grand Hall," she told them with a flourish. "You will take all of your meals here. Breakfast is served from six in the morning until eight in the morning. You will take your meals in here, and you will be able to study during your breaks. The kitchen is always open to students, and the house elves will happily make anything you request. You will have your classes from five minutes past eight until noon, when you will have lunch. Classes begin again at two, and end at five. As our custom, you will have class on Saturday until noon, and none on Wednesdays.

"Our students do not have houses, but we do utilize separate dormitories. Students at the age of eleven go through a ceremony to see where their magical aptitudes lie. Your courses are based on this as well. Later, we will do this with you all as well. As you know, my students are wonderful with their etiquette, and as such, you will be expected to follow suit.

She took a breath. "Any questions?"

Everybody stared at her for a moment, attempting to divulge the facts that she had presented. Harry himself found that he understood what was being said, though he was still hazy about the translation charm. Earlier, at Diagon, Madame Maxime had said that they needed it. Then, when they got to Beauxbatons, she mentioned that the entire school was placed under one. Of course, they were able to understand one another now, but it didn't mean that he completely grasped the concept.

He wasn't super strong with Charms, anyhow.

"When are we going to be placed?" Neville asked. He broke the silence easily, his round face full of wonderment.

Harry knew what he was thinking: it seemed like a better way to be placed. They weren't having to deal with trying to uphold a legacy, as nobody in their family had gone to this school. And they were being allowed to showcase their strengths this way.

And they could act like giddy eleven-year-olds, if only for the briefest of moments.

"After you eat. You are all hungry, no?"

They were. Madame Maxime waved them to sit at a table, and strode away to sit at the head table, alone. Unlike Hogwarts, the Grand Hall was not split up into four tables. Round tables of fifteen resided all over the room, and the group attempted to sit at one together.

As they moved, Harry thought of the last half hour, where they had gotten a brief tour of the grounds and said their good-byes to Mrs. Weasley. She had looked a little sad to see them all go, and he knew in his heart what they were doing back at the Farmhouse. Planning and plotting for a war that they hadn't been allowed to fight in.

He slumped into his seat, his lips pulled into a frown. Hermione and Ron fell into seats next to him, their faces a similar expression. He didn't think that they were having the same thoughts, but he knew that they, too, were feeling the same emotions.

The same mixed up, empty emotions.

Luna offered him a small smile from across the table. Her kind eyes bore into his, and he felt a little relieved that she was so strong. His gaze drifted to look at Ginny, who nodded her head reassuringly. He knew that they weren't insisting that he spoke, but rather letting him know that they were there for him.

Before anyone else was able to speak, plates of food popped onto the table, though a bit more glamorously than they did at Hogwarts. It seemed that the platters glimmered before they placed themselves onto the tablecloth. A meal of quail and potatoes presented itself, multiple plates of vegetables paired on the side.

The of age students received a glass of wine, which Ron and Neville grabbed theirs rather quickly. They took a quick sip, testing the waters, and, then, realizing where they were, both plopped the glasses back down rapidly.

Parvati pulled closer the quail and potatoes, taking a slice and a scoop. She took a bit of the spinach, as well, and passed the plates to her right. Everyone else followed suit, taking little pieces of the dinner before passing the food along to the right.

They made pleasant chatter as they did this, commenting about the scent of the food, about the taste. The elder students complimented the wine, and Ginny wished fervently that she had been allowed some.

They waited a full five minutes after they had filled their plates before Hermione spoke. "They have house elves here as well! This is ridiculous!"

Everyone looked at Hermione in a mixture of shock and amusement. Out of everything that was occurring, she was still willing to fight for the house elves.

"Well, it is!" she exclaimed, her face reddening. Her fork clattered onto the table, her outrage evident. For a moment, Harry seemed terrified that she was going to go through yet another phase of refusing to eat. Then, she lifted her fork once more. "Why don't you people understand?"

"Understand what?" Ginny asked, sliding her hand out and snaking Padma's wine away from her. The older girl frowned, but said nothing, allowing Ginny a moment. Just as the girl lifted the glass to take a sip, it turned immediately to water.

"Why do you insist that you're better than them?" Hermione asked, eyes flashing.

She shifted her gaze towards Ron, who squirmed beneath it. Harry, who was between them, let a puff of air pass between his teeth.

"Well," Ron tried, mulling over the word. "We have wands, and they don't."

"They don't need them, do they? They can do magic without a wand. Can we?"

Neville interrupted immediately. "Technically, we can. Granted, it's only when we get overly emotional, or before we're able to funnel our magic into an instrument. I'm not trying to advocate for this, though, Hermione."

"They don't need a wand, we do. They can do pure magic! This has to be why we force them into slavery. When did house elves decide they wanted to work? When?"

All of the purebloods froze, their eyes widening. They hadn't realized that there was an important part of history missing, that somehow it had not been taught to them their entire lives.

"Really?" the witch asked, her jaw dropping. "You never thought to ask it? None of you?"

They were ashamed for the moment. How had they never thought of it? And how had Harry ignored it, even after learning a tiny bit about slavery in school? How could they have forgotten everything?

"How in the world is this stupid world still so backwards?" she said in exasperation. Her head turned downwards, back to her food, and she shook her unruly curls.

Harry nearly laughed, because he completely agreed. They still used quills despite completely functional pens! They wrote on parchment instead of lined paper. He hadn't had a math class in ages- though he wasn't quite sure he wanted one.

But it was still… special.

It was magic. Sure, this was the same world that had thrown him out of his country, spitting him and his friends into a foreign school without further ado. Yes, he had been tormented and tortured for years by the public, and had been thrown into a role that he wasn't sure he wanted. But it was home.

No, that's wrong. It was home. He would have to reclaim it at some point. For now, it was a faraway dream.

It was like when he was young, and he thought that he had imagined Ron and Hermione, that Hagrid had not actually come and taken him away to Hogwarts.

That he didn't actually have a godfather that had loved him, if only for a short time.

"How did we never think to ask?" Neville questioned quietly, his voice soft and gentle. He almost seemed like he was about to cry.

Harry furrowed his brows. "It was never presented as anything different. Like the War. Can you remember a time when we weren't learning about war, or talking about Voldemort? We grew up this way."

"Conditioning," Hermione said slowly. "I think. I was never good with psychology."

They didn't speak for a few moments, attempting to distance themselves from the heavy thoughts dropped on their plates.

Then, Ginny cracked a small smile, toying around with her vegetables. "So, what do you think their ceremony is like? The Sorting? Do you reckon they have a song and everything?"

"Why would they need a song?" Luna asked.

"Well, we have one, don't we?"

Luna appeared puzzled for a moment, before her face lit up. "Oh! Oh, we have a school song? I didn't know that was a real thing!"

"Luna," Harry said gently. "Did you not know that? Wait, how did you not know that?"

"One of the older students told me that it was something that Professor Dumbledore had made up," she said seriously. "So I thought that we didn't have an official song. We really have one, though? That's such an odd thing."

"I mean, it's a strange song," Ginny insisted, patting Luna's arm. She was still clutching at Padma's wine glass, and finally let it go, placing it back at the girl's dinner setting. "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, teach us something please. Who even wrote those lyrics?"

"Isaac Scrimegeour."

Everyone whipped their head to look at Ron, who had just spoken.

"What? I know things. Besides, Hermione practically forced Hogwarts: A History on us when we were first years. A few things happened to stick in my head," he explained, furrowing his brows.

Harry laughed loudly, lifting his glass. "I think that's the best thing you've said all day," he said, then took a sip of his drink, refraining the urge to continue chuckling.

While he said this, Hermione sent yet another look towards Ron, this one of awe and pride. Both Harry and Ginny caught this, and exchanged exasperated looks, both of them letting loose a few laughs.

Everyone looked towards the pair in confusion, but neither Harry nor Ginny were able to respond in regards to their laughter, as they found the entire thing way too amusing.

Luna tilted her head, attempting to move past the rather strange escapades. "So, we have a school song. And it was written by an ancestor of our former Minister. That's very odd, don't you think?"

"Nah," Harry said, finally floating down from his burst of laughter. "I think it's just how these things go. So, any guesses about Beauxbatons having a school song?"

Parvati and Padma, who had been dubbed the unofficial liasons for the school, shrugged their shoulders in unision. Neither of them had thought to ponder of this, and found that it was odd that the group was fixating on such a thing.

"Well, I'm sure they have one. Probably a little anthem that they sing after the Sorting ceremony," Harry continued.

They all puzzled over this for a few moments, trying to think about the possibilities. They weren't sure if the school had something like the Sorting Hat, or what would even happen. Harry, upon thinking of it, recalled when Ron mentioned something about wrestling a troll in their first year.

He had also heard of an odd American school where a cat selected which dormitories they lived in, but that seemed much too undignified for this school. After all, there were sculptures everywhere. One could only expect the best.

And with the best came high expectations. As they finished eating, scraping plates and gulping down their drinks, they anxiously awaited the moment that Madame Maxime would walk back into the Grand Hall, murmuring for them to prepare themselves.

It took quite some time for that moment to arrive, so when they were finally ushered out of the Grand Hall, everyone's hearts were beating in apprehension.

She took them down the luxurious hallways, up a flight of stairs, and towards a rather official looking room that held a single stone on a pure white pedestal.

"Shall we begin?"


	12. The Casting Stone

**Author's Note:** Thank you for your reviews! I thoroughly enjoy them!

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The Casting Stone

 ** _August 28, 1998_**

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They stood, huddled, in the center of the strange office, uncertainty and anxiety present among slumped shoulders and craned necks. There was something off about the way that the rock sat, present on the pedestal.

Like it was watching them, sizing them up.

Even Luna, who always seemed to be certain of herself, regarded the rock with a bit of apprehension. This new thing that they had to beat seemed like it would be more difficult than anything else, at least for the moment.

Harry supposed it was because it was so simple. Voldemort was a different thing. They knew it would take both effort and time to beat him,. They would need to study hard (cram, rather) before the exams, and they would have to work hard to defeat the year. But this rock? It required so little effort.

He felt the same nerves that he felt the time he tried on the Sorting Hat. What if he didn't belong? And yet, he knew that was ridiculous. Of course he belonged. He was a wizard. He had already been through six years of schooling! He knew everything he needed to know at this point.

Well, not everything.

They lurked in one corner of the room, waiting for Madame Maxime to begin. During the long pause, Harry leaned against Ron for comfort. "Any guesses?"

It was said in a mumble, and his friend shifted to smile at him. They had worn through many guesses a few minutes ago, wondering and waiting. "None at all."

He was sure that Hermione could hazard one or two more, but before he had the opportunity to question her, yet another uncomfortable hush fell over the group. Madame Maxime, who had been hovering over the stone, looked towards them.

"The Casting Stone has been a part of Beauxbatons for centuries. It is one of the most glorious ceremonies that a student can be a part of. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, much like your own Sorting ceremony at Hogwarts."

She gestured fancily, wand in hand, towards the pedestal. They caused them all to look closer, staring at the way that the rock resided. It was lavender in hue, cut unevenly. This was the type of rock that one would try (and fail) to skip across a pond.

"You will be Cast into one of four dormitories, and this will be how we will base your class schedules," Madame Maxime continued, looking back towards them. "This way, you will be able to hone your magic to the best of its ability. We do not focus too much on where students lie, however. You are not broken off from your friends."

They waited for her to divulge more, but it seemed that she was not willing to offer anything else for the time being. Instead, she asked them to line up, watching as they fumbled to stand alphabetically.

Hermione marked the head of the line, poised and prepared. They weren't sure what else they were to do, as they had no further instruction. Should they move forward? Should they wait?

"The four dormitories are academically directed, like I have said. They are as followed: Dimiougós, Téchnes, Chorísravdo, and Glóssa. Dimiougós is based off wandlore, emphasizing on pure magic. Téchnes focuses on the arts, while Glóssa focuses on language above all. Chorísravdo opposes Dimiougós, where it features wandless magic."

They allowed the words to wash over them, awe featured on their faces. It was so different from Hogwarts, and seemed strange. Dormitories? And only focusing on their school? Harry found himself wishing furtively for Gryffindor, frustrated with the way that everything was working.

Madame Maxime glanced over them once more. "You do not wear different colors, nor are you forbidden from entering other dormitories. However, there is a curfew which should be followed. We'll discuss that a little later. Now for the Casting."

The group took a collective breath in. Harry watched as she moved across the room, standing directly in front of Hermione.

"Please, take a step forward and rest your palm against the Stone."

Fixating the headmistress with a piercing gaze, Hermione took a few steps forward to meet the pedestal. Her curly head ducked down, lips pursed as she pressed her hand against the stone. Nothing seemed to happen for a moment, just silence. She looked deep in thought as the Stone worked, or, as Harry thought, seemed to work.

Then, she lifted her eyes, smiling. "Dimiougós."

She didn't say anything else, but stepped to the side. Almost unconsciously, she pulled at the sleeves of her sweater, still bright and excited.

Luna was next, striding forward even before she was instructed to do so. She was as serene as one would have expected of her, unbothered by the possibilities. It was as if she was doing an everyday task, and she remained as mystic as normal as she dropped her arm.

There was barely a moment before she proclaimed, "Chorísravdo." Like Hermione, she said nothing else, wandering towards the other side of the room. She seemed perplexed by this announcement, spending her next few moments with a look of puzzlement on her face.

Harry, too, furrowed his brows. He had thought that Luna was bright for her age, and she was amazing at Charms. What did the Stone mean, then?

Neville had to be prompted forward, and he had barely touched the stone before it had labelled him Dimiougós. His eyes went wide, lips parted in shock. Before he could say anything else, Madame Maxime had ushered him to the side, frowning.

Padma went next, and stated, "Glóssa," while her sister claimed Téchnes. Harry felt his heart leap when he realized that it was finally his turn.

He took a few steps forwards, his forehead scrunching as he stared at the object. Like before, he found nothing predominately dramatic. It was only a stone. But as he looked at it, he found that there was a sort of glimmer, something that he hadn't noticed before. He felt magnetized, and immediately dropped his hand onto its surface.

Warmth seeped from the rock, tingling the pads of his fingers. It wasn't uncomfortable, but Harry found it strange. The smoothness of the stone hadn't translated well with the magic, and suddenly, it felt rough and worn. It was old, decades or centuries. He wasn't sure which, nor did he have time to think over it.

A cool voice spoke in his ear. He wasn't able to place what it sounded like; it was everything and everyone all at once. Soft and harsh, sweet and mellow. All he knew was it sounded emotionless and genderless, positively unattached.

"You are brave," the Stone said simply. "Do you enjoy it?"

Not at all, Harry thought back, resisting the urge to laugh. I'm very tired.

"Yes, I can see that. You will be brave for a while longer. But you will learn first, and practice."

How much more? I need to leave, I need to beat Voldemort.

"You will learn how to, here. And you will do well with it."

Suddenly, he felt compelled to speak, lifting his head to announce, "Dimiougós." His feet began moving on their own accord, taking him towards Hermione and the rest of their friends. His lips were set into a thin line, and he wasn't sure what to think.

He knew that Hermione would have a lot to say on the subject, and he was looking forward to asking her after the Weasleys got Cast.

It took a bit less time for the pair of them. Ginny, as expected, was cast in Dimiougós, while Ron was placed in Chorísravdo. There was a moment of silence after Ron's, where the present group was shocked that the siblings were not placed in the same dormitory. It was unusual and nerve-wracking. What else could happen?

They could nothing more but gasp as Madame Maxime stood once more in the center of the room, hiding the Stone from view. "Thank you. Now, I am sure that you would all like to take some time to settle into your respective dormitories."

There was a moment of murmuring before they could all gather their wits about themselves, trailing behind Madame Maxime as she led them to their dormitories. Ron stood glumly besides Harry as they walked, while Hermione restrained her glee.

"Do you know what I thought was interesting? We're not permitted a look into the Casting in most memoirs about the school, nor do we learn about the Houses. But I really want to look into everything again and see what I missed," Hermione said breathlessly. "Do you think the Stone is as sentient as the Sorting Hat?"

Harry shrugged. "I kind of doubt it, Hermione. I don't think a rock can have a brain. It's probably a few complex spells. Could you hear the whispering?"

With a nod, Hermione continued. "Oh, yes! The whispering and the compulsion was all very fancy. I wonder if they have to redo the spells every so often."

By now, they were walking along a portraited pathway towards the Grand Hall, which seemed to be the center of the school. Ron was quiet besides them, crinkling his nose.

"It must all be a load of rubbish," he mumbled. Harry clapped a hand on his shoulder, frowning.

"What's so bad about where you're going to be?"

Ron looked at him in frustration. "Wandless magic? It's probably going to be Theory all the time. And Potions."

"Well, you actually like Theory. And chess and strategy, yeah? So it can't all be that bad."

His friend snorted. "And there you two are, as well as my sister, proving that you're all better at magic."

Hermione shot him a dirty look, one that Harry felt like he ought to echo. He knew that wandless magic wasn't any less than wandwork. It was just different. Besides, Ron seemed to like those classes better, anyhow.

"We're not showing you up, Ron," Harry insisted evenly. "I think you need to really go over this in your head. You weren't punished. It's not like you were put in Slytherin or anything."

His friend cracked a grin at that comment, his sore mood briefly forgotten at the quip. Harry turned back to look at the hallway, figuring that he might as well pay attention so that he didn't get lost. Beauxbatons seemed vaguely more straightforward than Hogwarts, though. There were a few places where he was confused; none of the staircases seemed to move, and quite a few of the portraits were stationary.

Madame Maxime was chattering on about the attributes of the hallway, and Harry lifted his chin so that he could hear her better.

"This hallway is mainly for our Première students, who are not quite of schooling age. We also have a few first-year classes here, so that they do not get lost. Upstairs you will find a few studying rooms so that you may practice. Now, the dormitories and classrooms are generally located in their wings of the school, but some teachers will move their courses so that students are not confined to one room."

She gestured towards the neatly lined classrooms in the hall, where a few crudely drawn pictures had been placed up. Harry surmised that the Première students were likely children of teachers, or were quite possibly siblings of current students. Had that been how Gabrielle had gotten to come to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament?

They walked past the hall and towards a staircase nestled towards the back. As they climbed up, Harry dropped his hand to the golden bannister, grimacing. It seemed like overkill, but he supposed that they adored their theming. In actuality, the entire place seemed very Fleur-like: beautiful, protective, and very magical.

They travelled up two flights of stairs, then paused on the landing. Down another long hallway there was a beautiful, stretching arch. Marble columns held it together, and across the arc was spelled out 'Téchnes' in spiraling letters. As he looked, Harry saw the word shift and move. As the title danced before them the group started towards the dormitory.

Harry could see the excitement in Parvati's eyes as they reached the opening, and found himself pleasantly surprised to see an open common area.

Beige and white couches littered the area, and a few bright lamps were nestled besides them. There were tables for studying, a few fireplaces thrown about the area, and an assortment of easels and woodworking stations.

Parvati looked like she was in love, and turned to exclaim something to her sister that Harry couldn't quite hear. Padma laughed, pressing her fingers to the girl's cheek. Madame Maxime bent down to say something to Parvati, and the girl nodded.

"Well, I'll see you lot tomorrow!" she said loudly to the group before disappearing into the common area, either to explore or find her room.

Madame Maxime ushered them back the way that they had arrived, pointing out little details such as classrooms and specific testing locations. They trailed back down the stairs, and then proceeded in the opposite direction where they found a nearly identical staircase.

"We have three different libraries within our school," Madame Maxime instructed them as they stepped up the stairs, her breath catching slightly with the effort. "One is located on the fourth floor on the North side, and another is located on the sixth floor on the South. The final one is housed in its own separate tower by the Owlery."

They had made it up three flights of stairs this time, and were wandering towards a winding tower. Harry felt that it looked like how Luna had described Ravenclaw, and, by the little sounds that she and Padma were making, it must have resembled it slightly.

Instead of a dark blue there was lavender, and crème instead of gold. The entire floor appeared to be soft and mellow, tapestries presented here and there. Padma was smiling at the first impression, and looked as if she wanted to run up and explore everything that was offered.

She managed to restrain herself as they stepped towards an ornate door that was clearly labelled 'Glóssa', even as they stepped to the side, watching as she examined the doorframe. There was some writing there, and although she looked calm as she studied it, there was a happy sort of energy to it all.

Madame Maxime touched her arm gently. "Your dormitory leader will be around later to help see you settled and explain the history and classes."

"Thank you," Padma said graciously, then offered a small little wave to the group before disappearing inside. As she went, Harry saw the briefest glimpse of bookshelves.

They seemed very few as they walked back towards the staircase, and to Harry's surprise, they walked past it. Farther and farther they went into the school until they reached another hall. Madame Maxime guided them through it, then up another staircase.

"If you exit the Grand Hall to the left of the instructor's tables, you will find these stairs very quickly," she explained.

As they trailed after her, up those long stairs, Harry resisted the urge to sigh. Who was going to be next? And when was he going to be able to settle in and think about what was going on? They had been doing an awful lot of thinking, but for the time being, it was required.

Besides him, Hermione twitched anxiously. She probably wanted to study, Harry decided. Ron was still grumpy, but he had moved to talk with Luna, who was mentioning everything that she was excited to learn. Every few moments, Ginny or Neville would interject something.

Madame Maxime seemed to notice the underlying tension of the group, and stepped a little quicker towards the next dormitory. Decked out in blush and gold was Chorísravdo, just beyond their reach. Unlike the others they had seen, the title was proclaimed over a blank white wall.

As they stepped closer, the wall began to shift, bricks folding and unfolding to display the common room. Ron and Luna gaped openly, in awe at what they were seeing. Hermione clearly applied her logic to the scene, and began to hiss in Harry's ear about the spells used to create an affect.

Harry ignored her, watching as Ron and Luna peered inside the common area. Madame Maxime was speaking to them in a hushed tone, and Harry was finally faced with the reality of the moment. He and Ron weren't going to be living together anymore.

They had lived together since they were eleven. He wasn't entirely sure if he could fall asleep without Ron's snoring (and occasional weird dreams). He hadn't even thought of that possibility. Sure, he realized that they would graduate from Hogwarts at some point. But to be at school and not be living together?

Ron seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he turned around to fix Harry with a concerned look. Harry offered him a half-hearted smile, which the freckled boy returned immediately.

It seemed that only mere seconds after they had arrived, Madame Maxime was ushering the pair of them inside their new home. As they disappeared, they left the final four alone with the headmistress, who was looking rather exhausted.

As were the rest of them. Only a few hours ago they were wandering around La Ruelle de Fusion, and before that, Harry had been on patrol.

They were excited to finally get a chance to relax. Harry daydreamed about his bed in Hogwarts the entire walk to their new dormitory, his thoughts fixated on his four-poster bed that he had called his own.

Because of this, his first look at his dormitory was relatively skewed. Compared to the rest, the purple wallpaper of Dimiougós had seemed weak. They lacked a sign and their only entrance was a wooden door.

Madame Maxime gave them a similar statement that she had given Padme. "A staff member will be around later this evening to offer further instruction. For now, you will be able to settle down inside."

She left them at that, and Ginny led the way through the dark door.

As they stepped inside, Harry felt a rush of relief.

It was decorated in a way that reminded him of Gryffindor, warm and full of energy. There were armchairs and couches everywhere, as well as a set of fireplaces. Bookshelves lined the walls, and cushions were sporadically thrown across the floor (though Harry didn't know why).

As they moved deeper into the room, they saw that there was a set of stairs that likely led to rooms. Harry immediately started up them, and found that there was a plaque of names on each landing. His room was on one of the highest floors, and he shared it with only one person- Neville. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found their luggage and purchases resting on their beds, as well as the fact that the room seemed to know their preferences.

He poked around the room, happily spotting that they had their own bathroom as well as a cabinet for dry snacks. They each had a dresser to themselves, and plenty of space to spread out. Before he could begin unpacking, Neville entered the room, looking frazzled.

"How long do you suppose we have?"

Harry looked up at him in confusion, realizing the question a beat later. "Oh! Oh, I'm not entirely sure."

Neville nodded, then crossed the room to his bed. "This is going to be strange. Not the living together thing. I mean, we've done that for years."

"No, I know what you mean," Harry said. He leaned forward to start depositing things into one of his drawers, grabbing a few pairs of socks. "I didn't think about it until Ron…"

Neville nodded his understanding, but didn't say much else, which Harry appreciated. They managed to unpack in peace, only stopping when Ginny popped in to announce that they were supposed to be speaking to one of the professors.

Unfortunately, when Harry and Neville got downstairs, they recognized the man. It was the man from the café, the one who had snapped at him. He regarded the quartet with disdain, and began to launch into a rather lengthy speech.

"Yes, well, I am Professor Dargue, and I am an instructor of Defense Against the Dark Arts here. I am also your Head of Dimiougós. I do not stand for nonsense within my dormitory. Do not have your boyfriends or girlfriends in your rooms, do not attack your roommates, do not speak ill of your dorm-mates. While we are not like your Hogwarts houses, we do have the same principles. I expect you to stay on top of your studies, but you may come to me for instruction if you require so. You will be taking exams tomorrow afternoon. They are merely placement exams to see if you are at the level of our students."

He paused there, then continued. "Your uniforms will be in your rooms tomorrow morning, and I expect you to wear them professionally. You will stand when the professors enter the room for dinner, you will bow when you see your headmistress. Breakfast is informal, but I expect you to be ready to stand if asked. If you do not pass my expectations, you will receive a detention. Any questions?"


	13. Strengths, Toads, and Lions

**Author's Note:** It's been a while! I'm still writing, don't worry. I've just been crazed with summer intensives and trying to get a job.

* * *

Strengths, Toads, and Lions

 _ **August 29, 1998**_

* * *

The rest of their evening was uneventful in comparison to the day. Harry and Ginny played a game of Exploding Snap, and she had ruthlessly destroyed him. Neville had gone upstairs to tend to his newly purchased Mimbulus Mimbletonia (dubbed Alfie by Ginny), and Hermione was nestled on one of the couches, studying for the exams.

Although Harry wanted to go visit Ron and Luna, he ultimately stayed put, joking with Ginny. After about an hour of them joking about Slytherin finally having a chance at Quidditch this year, Hermione stood from her spot on the couch, groaning.

"It's too much!" she complained, dropping her textbook onto the couch. Harry peered over to see what she was reading- a denser version of the Transfiguration book they had purchased last year.

Ginny leaned back in her chair, still grinning. "What is? Studying?"

"How do they expect us to be able to take these exams? I should have asked Professor Dargue what we should expect to be on them."

Harry frowned sympathetically to Hermione. "Well, that opportunity didn't really arise. He was pretty in-and-out with us," he reassured her. "And I'm sure it isn't going to be that bad."

"Yeah," Ginny piped up, brushing a few of the Snap cards towards Harry as she readjusted the cards on the table. "What could they be grilling you on, anyhow? Most of your O.W.L. scores must have transferred over. I'm sure it's just an aptitude test of sorts."

Hermione appeared to debate this for a moment. But she didn't seem very mollified, and immediately flopped into her seat again, crossing her arms. "Well!"

Neither Harry nor Ginny knew what to do with that exclamation, and exchanged a few confused glances. Harry thought that she seemed calmer, but he knew Hermione well enough to know that she needed a distraction.

Ginny agreed with him, and, raising both eyebrows a few times at Harry, shifted in her chair.

Harry knew exactly what she was intending to do, and had to resist the urge to groan.

"So, Hermione… How's it going with Ronald?"

Harry resisted the urge to snort; Hermione's face had turned a very bright pink. He didn't think that he had ever seen her so embarrassed. She was sputtering for a few seconds, dropping the book from her hand. As the pair looked over her, she seemed to shrink.

He egged her on. "That's not an answer, Hermione."

She fixated him with a dark look. "I absolutely refuse to answer that question," Hermione insisted. In an attempt to rectify her original slip, she pulled her book up over her nose.

"You kind of just did," Ginny pointed out. She resisted the urge to laugh, the corners of her lips pulling upwards. "Well, you answered better than Ron did, anyhow."

Harry flashed his gaze towards Ginny, unsure where she was going with those comments. He was fine with bothering Hermione, but he didn't want to upset her.

"What? What did he say?" she asked rapidly. She was clearly trying not to showcase her interest, but it was far too late for that.

Ginny offered a sugary smile, tilted her head. "Well, he did mention something…"

"What?!"

They both turned to look at her, laughing at the face she was making. Her lips were still parted in an 'o' of surprise, and her features had reddened darker than before. She realized that she had given herself away, and wasn't sure what to do.

Harry knew that she had walked herself into a corner, and was actually quite amused by it. There was nothing that Hermione could say that would hide her feelings.

"I mean…" the witch trailed off, ducking back behind her book. "Oh, shut up!"

The night dissolved after that moment, as Ginny and Harry had erupted back into laughter. It was only a short while until the three students went up to bed, unsure of what else to do.

Harry took no time at all to shower and get ready for bed, and was asleep as his head had hit the pillow.

When he woke up the next morning, Harry felt a sincere feeling of dread. From across the room, Neville was barely stirring, and he was reminded of their early mornings in their first year. He had woken early in the first few months, too excited to get started. But now, he was feeling a sort of ache. He wasn't ready, not at all.

He felt like he should have studied with Hermione. They were taking exams that day, and were being judged by their performance! He hadn't thought about school in some time- not seriously, anyway. He couldn't remember the last time that he had thought about theory.

He pushed himself out of bed with a grown, arms smacking the side table in order to locate his glasses. The mattress shifted with him, beckoning him back to bed. He did not oblige; he moved towards their shared bathroom with shuffling steps. Staring into the mirror, he regarded his sleepy features with frustration. His hair was, as normal, sticking out in all directions.

Harry pushed down the locks, frowning. When they sprung back up, he resorted to turning on the water in the sink, running his hands underneath it. He ran a brush through his hair, and then reached for the toothbrush that he had set up previously.

His morning routine didn't take very long after that, and as he exited the bathroom, Harry noticed that the house elves had set out the Beauxbatons uniform. It was resting, pompously, on the top of his dresser, taunting him.

He didn't want to put it on. It was treason! But he knew that it was required, and he would be in more trouble if he refused to wear the outfit. With a grumble, he practically tossed the thing on, tying his tie with a careless flourish.

By the time he was done dressing, Neville was getting out of bed, fumbling around. His friend fixed him with wide eyes, and Harry arched a brow.

"What?" he asked, looking down at the uniform. He was concerned that something was out of place, or that he had worn something inside out. It was always possible. He wasn't so savvy with fashion, and was still used to wearing Dudley's cast-offs.

Neville shrugged, rubbing at his unshaven jaw. "It's nothing," he insisted. Harry found he didn't want to believe that, and was thankful when he continued. "It's just strange. Like your wearing someone's clothes, you know?"

He did know. "That's exactly how I feel, really," Harry explained. He looked down over the light blue school robes, the light colored trousers, and felt strangely out of place. "I feel like the vest and tie make me look like a Ravenclaw."

"Well, Luna and Padma will probably be content with it, then."

Harry smiled, stating, "Probably," as Neville brushed past him, moving towards the bathroom.

Instead of waiting, Harry started down the stairs, pausing for a moment to see if Hermione or Ginny were awake. Neither of the lights were on in their rooms, so he wasn't sure if they were up. Not wanting to face the wrath of their Head, he continued towards the common area, frowning.

Hopefully, they were awake. He didn't recall the way back to the Grand Hall, and was reluctant to start off his first day (or sorts) by wandering around Beauxbatons. While he didn't think that he would end up in some sort of restricted sector, he still didn't wish to be late for breakfast. Not only would that likely anger Professor Dargue, but it would hinder his spellwork later in the day.

Shaking the Hermione-like thought out of his head, Harry shuffled into the common area of their dormitory, smiling when he noticed Ron already perched on one of the couches. His friend fixed him with a gentle smile, none of the tenseness of the day before found within.

Next to him was Hermione, who looked eager to get a start on things. Because of this, he refrained from dragging out the reunion. He nodded a greeting, and asked the pair if they'd like to start walking to breakfast.

Ron, however, was more willing to display affection. He slung his arm around Harry's shoulder, smiling. "Yeah, breakfast sounds great," he said brightly, steering them towards the doorway. "Can we all sit together?"

"Of course," Hermione said. She seemed frustrated by the question, which Harry attributed to her stressed nature. "We can sit wherever we want!"

"Well, I'm sure some of the Beauxbatons students have their preferred tables," Harry said casually. He smiled at his own joke, while Ron rolled his eyes.

"For now, then," Ron clarified. "We can sit where we want."

Both Harry and Hermione let out little laughs, more snort-like than anything. This little bout of humor managed to amuse them for a moment before they looked out at the long hallway before them, confused.

"You know," Hermione began, taking a step forward. "I remembered how to maneuver around last night, but it looks so much more confusing now. It looks a lot bigger."

Ron cracked another grin, disentangling from Harry in order to take the lead. "That's because it looked a lot smaller last night. They actually get to see the sun here." As he said this, he gestured towards one of the windows lining the hall.

He was right in that, at least. As they began to follow Ron towards the stairs they had taken the night before, Harry was struck with how light and airy Beauxbatons actually felt. Although there were a great deal of classes and places, it still managed to seem open spaced.

Even as they started down the stairs, Harry felt that he wasn't quite as claustrophobic. They didn't move; they were stationary masses that supported as they made their way. He felt appreciative of this, and a bit relieved. After all, it had taken him quite some time to be able to navigate the moving staircases at Hogwarts, and that had been with the help of upperclassmen. What would have happened now?

The trio made their way into the Grand Hall in silence, anticipating the food that they were about to eat. Like dinner, platters were settled onto the tables, and students were expected to serve themselves. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were quick to find a spot, seeing as they were the first group there. Selecting the table from the night before, Harry reached to pick up the pitcher of pumpkin juice.

"I've never been more thankful to eat," Ron was saying, pulling a few pieces of toast onto his plate. Fruit joined them, and then a strip of bacon. He was adding more as Hermione sighed, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"You're always thankful to eat," she said in turn.

Harry murmured his assent, piling a heap of potatoes onto his plate. Then, taking a swig of pumpkin juice, he frowned, looking down into his glass. "Does this taste strange to you two?"

"Neither of us are drinking pumpkin juice, mate." As he said this, Ron reached over to grab the pitcher of pumpkin juice, looking in. He crinkled his nose as he withdrew. "Well, it may have a bit of cinnamon in it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She wanted to focus on other things, not the fact that the pumpkin juice may or may not have tasted strange. They taking aptitude tests, they were in a strange place, they had no teachers!

"Pumpkin juice aside," she said pointedly. She shook her head , a bit disgusted. "How was your meeting with your dormitory Head, Ron? Do you want to know who ours was?"

Harry crinkled his nose as he swallowed a forkful of food. "It's not going to be that hard for him to guess, you know."

Ron did, however, take a few moments before responding. He had been chewing an entire mouthful of potatoes, and needed a minute before speaking. Finally, he asked, "Is it that grumpy guy that we saw at the café?"

"Yes!" Hermione said. She then looked around immediately, nervous that the professor would walk in on them stating that. After all, he had heard them the first time.

Harry leaned forward. "Who is yours?"

"Her name's Ren Leclair. Apparently, she's a Healer, but she really wants to get into teaching, so Madame Maxime has been letting her instruct for the past few years."

"That's awfully kind of her," Hermione said. "Did she talk to you and Luna for long?"

Ron nodded. "She talked for about an hour. It was really nice, and she made sure to answer all of our questions. And we talked a lot about the Stone. Why? Did you guys not talk for long?"

"Professor Dargue was very terse and to the point," Harry explained. He personally thought that the man was a bit rude, but there wasn't much that they could do about it. The wizard could have been tired, or he was just naturally grumpy. He was leaning towards grumpy. "He said a few things to us before he left."

Hermione nodded. "We talked about basic rules, and that was about it."

Harry thought that she was being a bit gracious. The man had arrived, snapped at them, and then left almost immediately. They had gotten only the bare minimum in regards to what they wanted to know, and he assumed that he wasn't going to have that strong of a relationship with the man.

He missed Professor McGonagall.

"Are you talking about Professor Grumpy?" Ginny asked, sliding into a seat at their table. With her were Luna and Neville, who both looked sleepy and nervous.

Harry nodded, and Hermione murmured agreement between a mouthful of toast.

"Well, keep your words light. He was talking to Madame Maxime, and they're about to come in," she offered helpfully. Leaning over the table, she pulled together a plate to eat, then reached for a teabag and some hot tea.

Nearly as soon as she finished speaking, both Professors wandered into the Grand Hall, still speaking to one another. They made their way to the staff table, and Harry was reminded of the discussion that the man had had with them previously.

He unconsciously checked his uniform, smoothing it down. He noticed that Ginny, Neville, and Hermione were doing the same, much to Ron's amusement. Ginny stuck her tongue out at her brother, which she immediately snapped back to her mouth, uncertain.

They were trying not to irk Professor Dargue, who was observing their table from his own, staring at the little group of students. Apparently, they were up to his standards, as he nodded and turned back to Madame Maxime.

"Wow," Luna breathed quietly. She messed with the fruit on her plate, peering up at the staff table. "He's like Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape combined."

Ginny crinkled her nose at that, shaking her head at her friend. "Oh, goodness. No, definitely not, Luna. I don't even wanna think of a combination like that."

"He carries a lot of authority," Luna insisted. Harry could understand where she was coming from, but he didn't wish to think about the man like that. Snape was a horrid teacher, as well as a rotten man. There was nothing redeemable about the wizard. And McGonagall, while strict, was, in short, amazing.

She had been a mother figure to him for years, and was one of the strongest witches that he knew. Even in the face of Umbridge, she had remained stoic and brilliant.

"You're right about that," Neville said, looking towards the staff table. Harry followed his gaze, and noticed that another teacher had joined them.

The witch seemed to look only a bit older than Percy, and had her hair piled up on top of her head. Her face was youthful, save for the large glasses that were on her face. Harry turned back to Ron, arching a brow. "Is that your Head?"

"Yeah," Ron said, glancing towards the professors. The witch looked towards the table of students, smiled, and then said something to Madame Maxime.

They all returned to eating, and a few moments later, the twins joined them, smiling brightly. Parvati and Padma offered a greeting, both piling excessive amounts of fruit onto their plates.

"Sleep well?" Harry asked them both pleasantly.

Parvati shrugged, mumbling something about missing Lavender. Padma shot a look to the group, an unspoken warning not to question her sister about it. Harry instead turned his attention to Padma, who answered quickly.

"Oh, I slept well enough. Spent a little bit of time studying and speaking to my Head. You?"

"I had a nice rest, yeah. Didn't have much to talk about with our Head, though. Professor Dargue?" He motioned to the wizard, then turned his head. "Who's yours? Are they up there yet?"

Padma gestured to one of the archways of the Grand Hall, where a haggard old woman stood, stooped over. She was chatting with a wizard just as wizened as he, bent and knobby. Padma pointed at the witch. "Lena Mouchard. She's kind of a legendary spell-creator. And that's Parvati's Head, Laurent Gérard."

"What does he do?" Hermione asked.

Padma shrugged, and turned towards her sister, who was sullenly chewing on some melon. "He's an actor," Parvati mumbled.

"Well, that's interesting," Hermione said. Harry knew, from experience, that she was attempting to keep the judgmental tone out of her voice. He was confused, however; Hermione had liked seeing plays.

Parvati didn't lift her head, and Padma tried to strike up another conversation. She didn't seem to enjoy the silence, and Harry didn't blame her. It was getting a bit awkward. They were all staring at each other, or at their food, not sure about what to do.

"Are you guys looking forward to taking exams?" she tried, her voice hesitant as she broached the subject.

Ron snorted, shaking his head. "Of course not. Who would be?"

"I'm not looking forward to them either," Hermione admitted. "I'm terrified that I won't do as well as I could. We had no time to study!"

Padma shrugged. "I think that's the point. I think they just want to see how much we really know, and how much we don't."

Hermione crinkled her nose, but appeared to agree with the observation. Almost instantly, the conversation faded back into the background, as if the thought of the exams was enough to suck out their energy.

Breakfast was over a few minutes later, and Madam Maxime stood to greet their small group. From her seat at the staff table, it was almost comedic; her large frame loomed over the table, staring down at the few students gathered.

"Good morning," she boomed, her lips pulling into a wide smile. "I trust that you all slept well. Today you will be taking a few aptitude tests, after which we will be able to work with you and devise a schedule. These will be administered individually."

Well, there were enough rooms for that. He didn't understand why they had to take the tests separately. Harry doubted that any of his friends would stoop to cheating.

Harry supposed that they could be taking different exams, though.

She smiled down at them. "After these exams, you are able to spend the rest of the day as you wish. The other students will be arriving in a few days, when, like Hogwarts, we will be having a grand feast as well as the Casting."

Before the headmistress sat back down, she added, "You will be meeting with your Dormitory Heads after you finish eating." She shifted her robe around her in a slight swish as she returned to her conversation.

She paid the students no mind for a few moments as she finished up her discussion with the rest of her staff table. The remnants of Dumbledore's Army stared at them blankly, unsure as to what they were supposed to do. The majority of them were finished eating, and the others were observing the rest with an awkward sense about them.

Harry wasn't sure how he was feeling about everything, at least for the moment. He didn't think that any conversation with Professor Dargue was going to help him, and he wanted to get the testing over with.

Unfortunately, it seemed that they had a little more time before they were going to do that. The instructors present all stood and dispersed to a little portion of the Grand Hall, and the group dissolved to meet them. Professor Dargue stood in the corner nearest the staff table, and they followed him.

Hermione headed the group, her happy anxiety not quite passing to the rest of them. Neville appeared to be the only one adopting this, appearing quite nervous himself. Ginny was stone-faced, and she nodded at Harry when he caught her eye.

When they arrived by the wizard, he was frowning. At this point, Harry was assuming that this was his default expression, as he hadn't seen anything else. Frowning and grumbling. Well, at least he knew what to expect.

"We will be spreading you across the rooms in order to keep the tests safe. We do not assume that you will cheat, but these exams are both practical and theoretical. We will provide you with quills and ink, so you need not bring those," he informed them. "We will also be going there presently, and you will be alone in your testing room for quite some time."

Neville tentatively raised a hand, and Professor Dargue frowned deeper. "Yes…? Mr. Longbottom?"

Although he was shocked that the man knew his name, Neville spoke almost immediately. "Will we be returning all together? For lunch?"

"Yes."

The short reply made way for their walk towards the testing, as the Dimiougós dormitory led the students towards the classrooms.

They were silent on the way there, though Harry could hear Madame Maxime chattering happily with Madame Mouchard, both of them mentioning some sort of spell-casting technique that was going to be taught during the year. He craned his neck to look back at them, spotting Luna by their side. She was listening with wide eyes, looking as if she was in awe at the ideas.

Harry turned back to look where they were going, assuming that Dargue wasn't going to tolerate any of them getting lost. It wouldn't do, anyway, as they were going to have to navigate Beauxbatons when term started.

He examined their path to the second floor, looking out for little landmarks along the corridor. There was a tapestry dedicated to the night sky, which was good enough. Harry observed it carefully and made a note to remember it in the future if he could. It wasn't anything like Barnabas the Barmy, but it was close.

They passed a few notable statues as they moved deeper down the corridor, one of which the elderly Gérard paused next to. He tapped the frog once on the forehead with his wand, and as it hopped away, a door appeared. They all paused to stare, but Professor Dargue was having none of it.

"It's just a bathroom. Come along."

They all continued to trod after him and finally came across a set of classrooms. Dargue stood in front of them, gesturing. "One to a room. Go on."

He didn't give them much more instructions, and Harry had to guess that they didn't need to be in alphabetical order. Nobody wanted to double check, so they instead selected whatever one caught their fancy.

Harry moved to one in the middle of the group, and Hermione and Ron selected ones on either side. Inside, the room wasn't very remarkable. It was a simple classroom with only a few desks set up. Beauxbatons must have much smaller classes than Hogwarts. With the desks was a chalkboard, and a floating piece of chalk swept up and began to write.

He slid down into a seat, staring seriously at the chalkboard as instructions began to appear. He slid his wand out and placed it on the desk, and began looking around for a quill and some parchment.

' _Welcome, Mr. Potter. Please prepare yourself for your exam. You will not need a quill or ink for this section. Please go to the cabinet in the far corner, retrieve a toad, and do what you must_.'

Harry frowned, looking at the instructions. Do what he must? What did it mean? What was he supposed to do? He shook his head as he stood, deciding to follow them despite not understanding. As they said, there was a container of frogs over in the cabinet.

He picked one of them up and carried it back to his desk. The frog scrambled, trying to get out of reach. It croaked a few times, and Harry frowned. He didn't know what to do. There was nothing different about the frog. There was a little ribbon tied around its neck, but that was about it.

Harry held the frog down with one hand and pulled on the ribbon with his other. On the opposing side of the little collar there was a little slip of paper that said 'I am a Lion'.

Since there was an animal, he was either stuck with Charms or Transfiguration. Logically, Harry knew that he couldn't completely Transfigure the frog into a lion. It wasn't possible. But he could always make the frog's croak sound like a roar. Would that be enough?

Uncertain, Harry hovered for a few moments before selecting Transfiguration. He knew that it was a pretty stupid choice, but he was focusing on trying to prove to these Beauxbatons teachers that he was strong enough to be out on his own. That he didn't need to be at school, despite what the Casting Stone had said.

He began to work, studying the bone structure of the frog and trying to channel his energy into redirecting the matter. It took half of an hour, but he ended up with a very, very small lioness prowling about the desk. Satisfied, Harry sat back.

Unfortunately, the exam wasn't complete.

The chalk began to move again, and Harry resisted the urge to groan.

' _The written exam will start in exactly fifteen minutes_.'


	14. What Matters

**Author's Note:** I'm really losing steam for this story, folks, not gonna lie. I'm having a lot more fun writing other things, and we're coming up on a year of me writing this. I'm going to keep updating as long as I can, don't get me wrong! I may get the muse back in a week.

* * *

What Matters

 _ **September 1998**_

* * *

Two days after they had their entrance exams, Harry was feeling more and more confident about starting at Beauxbatons. Apparently, everyone scored much higher than they professors expected, leaving Harry, Ron, Hermione, the Patils, and Neville able to take the courses that they would have at Hogwarts. They also were able to figure out their strengths, all of which were accepted with a mixture of surprise and joy.

Harry had an aptitude for most wand magics, apparently. Professor Dargue had said (rather reluctantly) that his strength was far above the average wizard. When Harry had asked for more specific information, all of the teachers declined, stating that they did not enjoy pigeonholing students like Hogwarts did. He was, however, free to take as many classes as he wanted, thought they were going to recommend that he stay away from Herbology, History, and Divination courses.

They also told him to keep up with his Occlumency, which was something Hermione found to be far more amusing than he did.

Apparently, Luna and Ron were both on the pathway to becoming Spell Inventors, though Ron mentioned that he might change his mind. When Ron found out his results, his jaw had slackened. In what he had assumed was an ordinary display of magic, he had managed to create a filter around his frog, making it seem like it was a lion without actually changing anything about the animal.

He had thought that he failed the assignment, but Madame Maxime said that she was extremely proud of him. They also requested that Ron take Potions, stating that they thought he would do well in the class. Harry and Ron had laughed uproariously at this. Clearly, they had never seen either of their Potions records.

Hermione was told that, with her strong magic and her bright mind, she was able to take most of the classes that she wanted. Professor Dargue had almost reluctantly mentioned that she had a great aptitude for politics (due to her essay on Muggle Relations), and that he would like her to join the debate team if possible. Like Harry she had been warned against taking Divination which she seemed to be quite fine with.

If anything, Harry thought that his Dormitory Head had been increasingly distant after the exams. According to Ron, Ren was in contact with them quite often, talking about their results and what course load would best benefit their strengths. But Dargue had been avoiding them completely, only stopping to talk to Neville about what classes he should take to focus on Herbology.

He found it suspicious, really, and had talked it over with Ron once or twice. They decided not to alert Hermione quite yet, because she would tell them that they were being dramatic. Harry knew that they would need to have an entire list of Dargue's faults before Hermione was going to believe anything. She was having too much fun in their so-called 'safe haven'.

So far, they had nothing on Dargue save for the fact that he was a royal pain. He ignored them often, he ridiculed the way that they wore their uniforms, and he tried to penalize them far more than he probably should. Harry was reminded of Snape each time the man spoke, and he was even more frustrated when he remembered that Dargue was going to be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.

His best class was probably going to be ruined; it was going to be just like when Snape taught. He was never going to get the gross feeling of failure off of him. At least he knew that they weren't going to be learning about werewolves again. According to their textbooks, they were going to be spending the year working on nonverbal spells and casting advanced spells.

Apart from this dilemma, life in Beauxbatons had been going well for the past few days. They had settled in nicely, even managing to create some sort of routine. Harry would wake up early, meet Hermione in the common area. Then the pair would set off to grab Ron and they would eat breakfast together. Then, Ron and Harry would convince Hermione to come play a bit of Quidditch (well, to watch _them_ play), and she would then wheedle them into going into the library where they would attempt to research Horcruxes. They would have lunch, prepare themselves for classes, and then have dinner.

All in all, it was a pretty loosely scheduled day. Harry was almost excited to start classes, if one forgot the existential dread in regards to what was going on outside of Beauxbatons. And although he tried, Harry was having a rough time with it. Thankfully, his friends were just the same.

"I can't shake the feeling that it's wrong," Ron commented, dropping into an open seat in the airy courtyard they were relaxing in. "We're getting a second chance, really, while the Order is fighting without us."

"They're doing it willingly," Hermione responded gently, leaning back in her seat. "They wanted us to have this chance."

"It's still wrong. I don't know what to do about it."

Harry had to agree, though he wasn't entirely sure how to say it. Exploding Snap cards were strewn in his lap, and he looked down at them with a frown. He was losing again, just like normal. Just like the war.

Since they were playing the Bavarian Rules, Harry decided to remove the cards from his lap, and as they began the next round, he rushed to begin tapping.

"We can look for the Horcruxes from here, I guess. Find a way to destroy them- ARGH!" One of the cards had fallen and exploded in Harry's lap. He winced while his friends began to laugh.

"I think we've already established that," Hermione informed him, shaking her head. She reached to tap out a pair quickly, smiling in satisfaction. "Besides, we aren't getting very far."

"We could always ask someone," Ron said. He triumphantly hit the last match, winning the game. Both Harry and Hermione groaned at his second win in a row.

Harry, shaking his head at the words and the game, added, "I'd honestly rather not involve anyone else, but I suppose we could ask a professor. Who, though?"

"I dunno," Ron said, shrugging. "I don't trust anyone enough quite yet."

They were silent for the next few moments, starting up a new game. When Ron had won for a third time, the other two tossed their cards at him and decided that they should do something else. Harry suggested they get the others for a game of Quidditch, but Hermione made a point of attempting to look for more clues about Horcruxes.

That in itself was going as well as Exploding Snap.

"There isn't anything in that one," Hermione explained, a little defensively. "We've checked it three times! There's a brief mention of Grindelwald and Dumbledore, but there's nothing about Horcruxes. It just mentions the relationship between the pair and the fact that he _may_ have used them."

"Well, that's better than nothing, Hermione," Harry remarked, shrugging. He pulled the book forward on the table, and Ron flicked it open to the page.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's not better than nothing. It's nothing."

Harry felt that the entire thing was going very poorly. They were no further in their quest than they had been in August, and with classes starting on Monday they were going to have a poor time of it all. The fact that they hadn't even found a book to help was starting to get on Harry's nerves.

He had hoped that the books that Hermione had taken from Dumbledore's office would help, but unfortunately whatever Dumbledore had seen in those tomes hadn't shown itself to the trio. They had hoped to get some glimpse as to what things could break a Horcrux, but none of the books bothered to mention it. On top of that, most the books only seemed to mention Horcruxes as a theory as supposed to a possibility.

Honestly, he wasn't shocked. Horcruxes should have only been theory, but something had made them happen. The main question was _how_. How did this happen?

How could Voldemort do this to himself? Rip his soul apart? Kill people? Harry saw briefly what had made the man like through memory (and action), but he still felt that he was unable to fathom it.

They spent a few hours in the library searching for any sort of clue as to what to do about the Horcruxes, only stopping when Ginny darted in to remind them of the arrival of the rest of the Beauxbatons students later that evening.

"What are you lot up to?" she asked, leaning over the desk. Hermione and Ron hastily covered up the titles of the books, and Harry shifted so that their little notes were out of sight.

Before Ginny could move closer, Hermione quickly tapped her wand to relocate the objects. "Nothing, nothing. When are they getting here?"

"Did you ignore everything Dargue said this morning? I thought you were paying attention."

Harry had to agree with Ginny. He had honestly thought that Hermione was listening as well, not ignoring the man like he had been. Harry inclined his head, waiting for her response.

"Erm…" Hermione said, shifting in her seat. "Well, I got distracted."

Ron joined Harry in his shock, exclaiming, "How?" in a loud tone. Thankfully, the librarian wasn't at school yet, and therefore was unable to shush them effectively.

"It's not important."

Before either of the boys were able to say anything else, Ginny spoke again, her tone swift and amused. "Well, we'll get back to _that_ later, Hermione. But they'll be here in two hours, I think. And don't think I didn't see that you're up to something."

The trio exchanged glances but said nothing in regards to that. Harry wanted to tell her, really. But he couldn't see that going well for the time being, and Dumbledore had only wanted the three of them.

But could it be that terrible? What could really happen if they let someone know? Even though Harry wanted to let Ginny in on the plot, he wasn't willing to risk causing her any more pain. It wasn't going to change their relationship status, nor was it going to help as much as he was hoping. He was right to keep her out of it initially, wasn't he?

Harry was still mulling over that when he, Ron, and Hermione went down for dinner that evening, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the rest of Beauxbatons. They weren't sure what to expect from the school's fancy dinner, nor from how the rest of the school was going to take their appearances.

Hopefully they weren't stealing someone's seat, but Harry wasn't sure that it was going to be that big of a deal. Sure, they were strangers that had wandered into someone else's territory. But he hoped that wasn't going to be enough to get everyone to hate them.

He also didn't really understand how France felt about Voldemort's reign. Were they sympathetic towards the Order? Or could they be on the side of Voldemort?

Harry couldn't understand anyone who was a Death Eater sympathizer, but he didn't doubt that there were some here. Madame Maxime couldn't keep everyone from the Dark. She was powerful, but she wasn't that powerful. Voldemort's influence must have reached Beauxbatons. It wouldn't make sense if it hadn't.

Although he was obtuse at times, Harry knew that there were probably going to be people who were going to frown upon Dumbledore's Army, that it was likely that there were going to be individuals that were going to try to discredit them.

So he was wary when the students came flooding the Grand Hall that evening, shouting joyous greetings and excited words. People swept this way and that, ants among the large room, dots of blue chattering happily. Within it all sat Ron, Harry, and Hermione, watching from their table to see who would notice them first.

The first person who noticed them were a pair of young students, probably in their third or fourth year. They were wandering towards the back table when they noticed it was already occupied, and their eyes widened when they noticed that it was occupied by students that they had never actually seen before. The leader of the pack, a rather diminutive little girl, scoffed as she turned away, mumbling something under her breath to her friends. All in all, it was everything that Harry expected.

Even as Madame Maxime entered the room, and each student darted towards a table, Harry felt the pull of irritation that the students felt towards him. He didn't know what all they knew or what all that they had heard, but they seemed to regard the group with negative emotions.

"My students," she began, looking over the group. The large school was all within the Grand Hall, everyone standing at attention by their seats, looking to her for instructions. "I am so glad to see you all again. It is an honor and a privilege to see your shining faces once more. I trust that you had an excellent summer and that you're looking forward to yet another year of learning."

There was a polite murmur of confirmation that ran over the crowd. Harry himself found that he was nodding along with the group. Madame Maxime was just as good a speech giver as Dumbledore, especially once he could understand her.

"I understand that these are very strange times that we are living in, and I expect you to treat our current guests with the utmost respect, even if they are your age or younger. They, too, are students. They are here to learn. This stretches from those already Cast to those about to be Cast. Beauxbatons students hold themselves to the highest creed, am I correct?"

Everyone, again, confirmed, but there were different levels of this. Some students whooped and hollered, while others simply clapped. There were one or two students that simply shook their heads, which frightened Harry a bit. As he looked towards the staff table, none of the teachers seemed to be reacting to these statements.

Madame Maxime loomed over them as she finished. "The rules have not changed this year, and I know that I do not need to remind you. The club sign up lists will be up until the rest of the week. Quidditch teams will be offered if enough individuals sign up. If there are any questions, please seek out any of the professors and they will be willing to help."

She sat down after this, and as she did so, the platters appeared quickly. Dinner that evening was a roasted bird (Harry couldn't tell what), an assortment of squashes, and some grain. There was a bean option as well, but as he couldn't quite tell what it was, Harry stayed away from it as well.

Hermione picked up the platter and dropped a bit on her plate, passing the food to Harry. He used the tongs to give himself a big helping before giving the food to Ron, not before turning his nose up at the vegetables.

"You're a child," Hermione complained, picking a few off of her plate and shoving them at Harry. "Just eat the vegetables, really. You can fight You-Know-Who but you can't eat some squash?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Dudley once dumped an entire plate of it on my head."

"So? You didn't turn it down last time," Ron inputted. He chewed thoughtfully on one of the chicken bones, looking out over the tables.

Harry shrugged. "I was really hungry last time. I'm not now."

"If you aren't, may I take this?" a voice piped up. Harry, Ron, and Hermione lifted their gaze to find themselves face-to-face with another student, this one slightly familiar to them.

"Vee!" Ron exclaimed, smiling. "You scamp. What're you doing here? Thought your mum was keeping you home!"

The little thing shook his head, dropping into one of the empty seats. "Mum wanted to make sure I got to go to a boarding school. I think she's scared that You-Know-Who is gonna… find the Ministry. I don't think he will, but…"

"Never mind that." Harry didn't want the kid to think about such terrible things, not on his first night of Beauxbatons. If Everett couldn't go to Hogwarts, Harry wanted the child to have just as good of an experience elsewhere. And hopefully he could transfer to Hogwarts when the war was done. "Have you been Cast, yet? I'm not sure how they do things here."

"We have it after dinner, according to Millie. She's one of the other students, and she's pretty nice. I met her in the carriage! She's actually from the islands, too, but her parents are French so they sent her here."

Hermione, who didn't know Everett, frowned. "I'm sorry, but when did you all meet?"

"When we went shopping," Ron said. "Met a nasty piece of work, but also found Vee. His family is all Hufflepuffs, and he was hoping to be one himself."

The witch nodded, offering the boy a smile. "Well, that's certainly exciting. It's nice to meet you, Vee. I'm Hermione."

"I know!" Everett exclaimed, practically bouncing in his seat. "You're an amazing witch- that's what everyone says, anyway. People were talking about you lot all summer, and even in the carriages. I'd watch out, though. Some people here don't like you very much."

Harry snorted. "I'm not really surprised by that. What were they saying?"

"They said that there was something off about you all. I dunno, it's hard to explain. I didn't understand it very well," Everett said. He shrugged one more time before bidding the group farewell and moving back towards his new friends across the hall.

The group mulled over this for a bit before deciding that it wasn't entirely worth it. It was probably best for the moment, anyway. The mood was too celebratory for Harry to want to destroy it. Even with the underlying war, he was reminded of the way that he had felt when he had gotten to Hogwarts each year. Beauxbatons didn't feel like home, but it was getting close.

That feeling wavered slightly when a small group of students approached their table, looking far scarier than Everett. The students were all in their final year by what Harry could tell, all of different shapes and sizes. They appeared to be in different dormitories, too, with little ribbons on their chests proclaiming where they belonged. It wasn't like anything that Harry had seen before, and he didn't think that they were able to do such things. Wasn't Beauxbatons supposed to be more inclusive than this?

The ringleader was a female that stood shorter than the rest. She exuded a strange air about herself that caused Harry to be instantly wary of her. Her hair was as blonde as Malfoy's was, and he supposed that they might be of distant relation. Her skin was the palest that he had seen, but she didn't carry herself the way that Fleur had- she was not part-Veela.

"You're Harry Potter?" the girl asked, extending a spindly arm towards Harry. She smiled politely, though it seemed as if this pained her. There was a distinct part of her speech that caused them all to take notice, and Harry found himself taking her arm and shaking it.

"Yeah, I am. This is – "

"Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. Yes, I know," she continued. "My friends and I would like to personally welcome you to Beauxbatons, as well as extend our deepest condolences towards what has ensued in your home country."

Everything about her reeked of diplomacy. Harry hated it, really, but there wasn't much that he could do. He didn't want to come across as rude, and didn't wish to make the same mistakes that he had made with Malfoy. He didn't need to make an enemy straight off.

"Thank you, I think." Harry said. "You are?"

The girl smiled while they shook hands, and the grin remained as she returned to her previous stance. All of the students that surrounded her smiled as well, and the effect was frightening. It was like they had a hive-mind.

"I'm Maïann," she finally said. "Maïann Bernard. And this is Odelia Raymond, Veronique Scella, Robert Moreau, and Louis Fevre. We don't expect you to remember all that, by the way. We'd just like to let you know that our club is interested in accepting new members, and we wanted to explain to you what we're all about."

That phrase frightened him slightly, and Harry glanced towards Hermione. He didn't want to end up in another Slug Club situation, and there was something vaguely nasty that seemed to be brewing. Hopefully these weren't the students that Everett had mentioned.

Hermione began speaking, knowing that she was more diplomatic than either of her friends. "We're very flattered, Maïann. But we just want to focus on our studies this year, not join any social groups. I'm terribly sorry."

"I understand, Miss Granger. I do hope you'll hear us out, however. We are a group of individuals that are trying to break past the boundaries set on our class. We call ourselves Pas Toujours."

"'Not Always'? Why?" Hermione asked.

Maïann smiled at them once more, though it felt more patronizing this time. Harry had to resist the urge from squirming under such an emotion. Thankfully, it wasn't mirrored in any of her colleagues, so he could make sure to look elsewhere.

"I fear that our status has been marred in your country, and we have been advocating for our own safety ever since. Not all purebloods are as wicked as they have been painted," she said sweetly. "And we are upset that this has been proclaimed by so many sides. We are not evil, not always."

Oh. Harry had to resist the urge to crinkle his nose when he placed his hand on Hermione's, signaling that he was going to take the lead in this discussion. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice, and even though he knew that this was probably the stupidest club that he had heard of (and he was including the Slug Club and Umbridge's Inquisitive Squad), he didn't want to create an enemy the first official day of school.

"Well, I'd like to thank you for your offer, but Hermione was right. We really don't have time to join a club this year, we're behind as is. Though we're very thankful that you considered us," Harry said. He thought that was a civil enough response. Besides, only Ron was a pureblood. She must not have done the research.

With that response, Maïann simply shrugged her shoulders in order to make a delicate escape. The group turned tail and set off, chattering among themselves gently. Harry turned immediately back to Ron, noticing his silence.

"Anything to add?" he asked his friend. He wasn't concerned that the man was going to turn tail and join the group, but he wanted to know how Ron felt about it all.

Ron shook his head, turning back to his food. "She's really, really pale. Like, Malfoy pale. Do you think they're related?"

"Well," Hermione said unkindly. "If they're purebloods, they probably are. You lot interbreed."

Ron reddened, but didn't say much else. It wasn't like he was given a chance, though, because there was a sudden disturbance in the school that was unlike anything that they had seen before. It wasn't like any of Fred and George's hijinks, although they did look around for the twins out of reflex. Sadly, it wasn't anything like that.

One student was suddenly standing on the table, jumping up and down. They seemed to be bothered by something, stomping their feet to some strange tune. At first, nobody could hear what the boy was saying. Everyone was still talking, and then the words fluctuated as people noticed that there was something going on.

"The British Dark Lord has killed too many of us for us to remain quiet any longer! We need to stand up! We need to speak out! Muggleborns are magical, too! We did not 'steal' anyone's magic! We have our own!" As soon as the words finished, he started up again, trying to raise his voice over the hubbub that occurred. Harry scanned the room to see what the other reactions, were, and he saw a slow smile settle over the tiny blonde witch's face.

Ron turned towards Hermione, confused. "What's going on?"

Harry turned towards her as well. Hermione clearly didn't have an answer, and she was just as enthralled as the rest of them.

"I don't know. But it's… interesting. It's a lot more interesting than what I thought it was going to be."


End file.
